Nothing Else Matters
by Cid62
Summary: Disgruntled Ministry employee Hermione Granger and pardoned Death Eaters Walden Macnair and Lucius Malfoy all agree that family is important...but all have different places in a post-Voldemort world. Story Complete! EWE, polyfic, Hurt/Comfort, Slyther/DE-centric.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is a riff/AU off my Dark Redemption trilogy, which is a Slytherin/DE-centric SS/OC/WM pairing (with a bit of Lucius Malfoy thrown in). To make a long story short, Macnair is married to an American witch from Salem, whom he stole from Snape after stalking her at the request of Lucius Malfoy. She's been plotting to leave him and escape to America after the birth of their first child.

This one will be a HG/WM/LM hurt/comfort poly fic. It is also AU and is most definitely EWE!

Fancast: Walden Macnair - Joe Mangianello (True Blood) (with a bit of the Rock thrown in for fun).

Please note that the Macnair described in the books is ***nothing*** like that which is shown in the films. (There are 3 different actors: the first in POA is awful, the second in GOH can barely be seen, and the third in OOTP is awful. There's a tall DE with dark hair in DH parts 1 and 2 who is a bit closer, but he never speaks nor is named.)

You will notice that I borrow things freely from both the books and the films as they suit me, however. There is even a bit of Cursed Child tossed in (much as I wasn't happy with it).

Thank you to the lovely ladies of the Death Eater Express FB group, most especially Canimal for Walden's tracking crows, seen in The Dark Mage's Captive. I loved them, and I turned them into ravens...one of the few things that I liked about "the executioner" in the POA film :)

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 1 - Prologue**

Walden Macnair was as happy as he could remember in the days after he left Golgomath's secret mountain hideout. Through a combination of gifts, surreptitious spells and Slytherin cunning, he'd managed to successfully convince the most pugnacious giants to return to Britain and fight on the side of the Death Eaters. And when he arrived at his hunting lodge after utilizing a series of highly illegal Portkeys, his father immediately whisked him off to St. Mungo's, where he was able to witness the birth of his second son, Evan Allister. All seemed to be going according to plan. He hadn't been Called since his return, and thus expected to give his report to the Dark Lord at the Halloween Revel, and be rewarded in due course. He'd not bothered to return to his Ministry job.

On Saturday, November 2nd, Walden and his wife Rowan sat in their kitchen having tea. It had been a very lazy morning. Evan had actually slept in, and the couple were waiting for Grandma Macnair to arrive so that they could head to Malfoy Manor for the Revel.

Walden held Evan and burped him. He was pleased to note that his son had the Macnair features and a full head of black hair. He was also rather large and was already showing signs of strength."Let go of my finger, son...I'm going to need it tonight," he added, looking at his wife with a leer.

Rowan winked at him. "Here, let me take him, it looks like he's left a mark on your robes."

"Damn!" Walden stood up, handed the bundled-up Evan to his wife, and then reached behind himself with his wand and uttered a Cleaning Charm. "So, lass, are ye actually up for a bit of fun at the Revel tonight, or would ye rather sit this one out?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rowan remarked. "I thought I'd see how I was feeling later."

"Well, I'd like it if ye'd come with me to the Main Revel, this one's important."

"Well, if you want," she said, non-committally.

"I want...in fact, I wish my mum would hurry up so I could take ye upstairs," he said. Just then, the sound of house-elf feet running echoed through the main hall. A few decorous minutes later, his mother ensconced in the downstairs guestroom with Evan, Walden tossed Rowan over his shoulder, Apparated upstairs, and within minutes after he closed and charmed the door and briefly kissed her, he'd impaled her from behind. However, as he'd had no extra-marital activities during his sabbatical with the giants, within a rather short time, he was spent and shuddering. As the couple recovered, they lay together on the bed. Rowan did not look pleased with the proceedings. "I'm sorry, lass, I'll make it up to ye tonight..." he began.

"I'm not sure I _want_ to participate tonight," Rowan said, abruptly. "I'd rather stay home."

"But-ye have to go! The Dark Lord will want to speak to the both of us."

"The last time we talked about this, you said he wanted to do a lot more than _speak_ with us...and I'm not interested in what he's offering. He's not my type, and I think what he's planning is wrong. Furthermore, I think his kind of magick is wrong!" She sat up in bed and wrenched herself from Walden's grasp.

"Lass, what brought all this on? How is it wrong? For Salazar's sake, do you actually think there's a right and wrong when it comes to magick?" he asked, sitting up. "What kind of a Dark witch are ye?"

"I'm not," she said. "I'm _not_ Dark. I've told you that before!"

"Well, lass, whether ye say ye are or not…ye have the Master's Mark on your arm. In fact, he's going to initiate the Inner Circle wives, come the New Year," he said.

"No!" she said. "Please tell me that he doesn't think the New Year begins tonight," she added.

"In the Celtic calendar, ye and I both know it does, but he follows the Roman one," Walden said. "I have no idea why. So, February it'll be. I'll be happy to have ye by my side," he mused. "Ye've never felt such power. Ye can come with me ta the meetings then, and when we go on raids."

"I don't want to do it. I _won't_ do it."

"Ye _will_ , though. In the initiation, all of us will take ye—I'm not sure if I like that idea, but that's the way it's done."

"I'm definitely not interested in that case. And is that the way it happened for you?"

"It's nae the same way for wizards," he said. "I told ye, there've only been two female Knights. I was there when both were initiated." He paused for a moment, and Summoned a bottle of Scotch from the bedside table, poured himself a drink, and then sent the bottle flying back. He then Summoned a bottle of mead. "Snape was there, too, of course, and Lucius. Funny, he's been around quite a bit lately," and he smirked.

"Who, Lucius? The meetings are all at his house, aren't they? Why wouldn't he be there?" Rowan accepted the glass of mead that he poured for her and drank it quickly, with a grimace.

"No, the greasy bastard. Scared, I expect…our Lord accepted him back, ye know; he believed his stories, but I still doona trust him," he said. "Shall we go in for our bath? Lucius asked us if we could get to the Manor a bit early. We can just Apparate, if ye doona mind," he said.

"I do mind! I told you, I _don't_ want to go!" Rowan grabbed her wand, stood up and started to Apparate away, but Walden was too fast. He leveled his wand at her and snapped, "Imperio!"

"Now," he said, in a low tone, "ye'll come in there with me to the bath and then we'll go to the Manor for the Revel, and I doona want to hear any more of yer Yankee foolishness. We'll serve the Dark Lord together as we were meant to, side by side, me lass. Is that clear?"

Rowan nodded.


	2. It's Goin' Down

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 2 - It's Goin' Down**

Hermione Granger stood in her office, waving her wand to efficiently sort the mountains of paperwork that the trials had generated into neat piles, for eventual binding, shrinking, and storage. Seven years of dutiful Ministry work, and she was still shunted off to filing when her superiors didn't want to do it...which was every single time it was required, of course. It was a very tedious job, and she hadn't had nearly enough coffee to sustain alertness, so her mind was drifting hither and yon, and she didn't hear the series of quiet knocks on her office door.

So when the door swung slowly open, she was surprised and waved her wand wildly and sent a stack of papers hurtling toward Walden Macnair, who (having had his wand confiscated at the front desk) held his hands up to block them.

Fifteen minutes later, they'd both managed to pick most of the stray papers up off the floor and Hermione had sorted them back into their proper places; all the while, Macnair profusely apologized for causing the chaos and Hermione shrugged it off. "It's not as if they were in perfect order in the first bloody place, and likely nobody will ever want to read them again," she said. Most of them, in fact, were transcripts of the Malfoy family's testimony; Lucius had waxed poetically upon his grievous errors for so long that the rest of the Death Eater trials had been repeatedly postponed...which Hermione suspected was his true purpose, rather than public repentance, but she kept her opinion on that firmly to herself.

"Unless they run out of Sleepin' Draught," Macnair replied, with a very small smile that Hermione almost didn't notice, but she glanced up at him and their eyes met and all the frustrations of the past few years fell away and she didn't even care that she knew all the various offenses of the man in front of her, in great detail. She burst into helpless laughter, dropping the stack of papers she'd been clutching onto the floor.

"Bloody...sodding... hell," she managed to choke out, through her laughter, and Macnair started laughing too, then, although she noticed that he sounded a bit hoarse, as though he hadn't done so in a long time... _which was probably true_ , she thought, having sat through most of his testimony.

"Let me get those for ye, lassie," he said, kneeling down and sweeping the errant parchment up into his large arms. "Here...quick, shrink 'em down before anything else happens."

"Yes, yes...thank you again. Sorry! Er...I probably should have asked you this when you came in, but, er, may I help you, Mr. Macnair?" At this last, she waved her wand and shrunk the stack to the approximate size of a matchbox.

"Aye...I wanted to tell ye...er, that is, I wanted to thank ye, for all the work ye did for me. I'll be goin' away for a while, not sure when I'll be back to Britain. They've just approved me Portkey," he added, looking down at the floor. Hermione knew the Portkey Office had likely kept him waiting for many unnecessary hours. He might be a parolee under conditional pardon; that didn't mean he was popular.

"But...where are you going?" she asked. She had assumed he would return to his parents' home in Scotland, where he'd been under house arrest, and live out the rest of his life there...and then she wondered oddly to herself why she even cared, but the extreme information dump of the last few years had changed her opinion, just a bit, on some of Voldemort's former henchmen.

"Australia, I need to go get me son," he said, still looking at the floor.

"Your son? I thought he was..." She let her voice drift off. The former Walden Macnair, Junior, had changed his name and then publicly denounced his father during the trials, but Hermione suspected that had a lot more to do with Macnair's divorce from his first wife than anything else.

He cleared his throat. "Me second son, Evan. I've just had an owl, me daughter sent it after she read in the _Prophet_ that the trials had ended." He finally looked up at her then, a rather indescribable look in his eyes.

Hermione nodded. "Mr. Macnair, would you, er...would you care to go for a pint...maybe not to the Cauldron, you know, but..." They both knew that being seen together at the Cauldron would likely result in a front-page Prophet article, and Hermione didn't relish having to explain such a thing to Harry or Ginny. The words hung in the air for a moment between them, and she couldn't get them back, but it was long past 5 o'clock and she was tired, hungry and thirsty, and there wasn't anything or anybody waiting for her at home.

"I know a place ye might like," he said, by way of an answer.

"Not that dodgy pub down Knockturn?" she asked, as she waved her wand to gather her purse and cloak.

"Nay, me wife didna like the Claw, either, always said it was more full of dust and grease than anythin' else...anyway, old Viridian decided to go out of business right after Borgin and Burkes closed up," Macnair said. "Nae, this place is in Muggle London," and when Hermione looked surprised at that, he added, "They have good whiskey."

"Well, that's honestly what I prefer to a pint, anyway," she said, as she started to put on her cloak. He stepped behind her, then, and assisted her in putting it on, which would have surprised her ten years ago, but after listening to his testimony, she knew that he and several of the other Death Eaters considered themselves to be raised as gentlemen.

"That's settled then," he said, after he stepped decorously away from her. "Ye likely know this, but ye'll have to check me out at the desk so I can get me wand." She did know; she also knew that he'd bent the rules slightly by coming to her office unaccompanied, but there seemed no point in bringing that up. And his wand was a new, Ministry-issued, highly restricted model, which was monitored even more seriously than the Trace for underaged wizards.

Percy Weasley, who was, as always, working late, stared at them oddly in the lift after the requisite polite greetings had been exchanged, but Hermione really didn't care. She didn't see any of the Weasleys, other than Ginny, much anymore. Over the years, her relationship with Ron had dwindled away to the occasional uncomfortable lunch date once she'd started on at the Ministry and he'd decided to parlay his Golden Trio fame into dates with nearly every eligible British witch. Harry and Ginny had made attempts to help them reconcile, but as Hermione's heart wasn't in it, all had been failures.

Once the pair emerged from the phone box, Macnair glanced around quickly, then waved his wand over himself and transfigured his robes into a kilt and heavy woolen jumper. Hermione nodded, as she was in a rather Muggle-like business suit, already, and the cloak merely looked like a fashion statement. The air was brisk as they silently walked through the streets.

"It's nae that far," Macnair finally said, after they'd gone several blocks, and sure enough, around the next corner, a rather non-descript hotel loomed out of the darkness. As if he'd known what she was thinking, he added, "We're just goin' to the pub inside, Miss Granger."

"Oh! Er, yes, of course. Just never been here before, that's all," she stammered. She had to admit that she had been wondering about his choice of venue, considering that this was the first time in years that she'd been out alone with a wizard who wasn't Ron, Harry, or one of her co-workers... _and it's not as if he's not good-looking_ , in fact, she'd thought that all those years ago when he came to the school for Buckbeak, in fact. He was tall and muscular and wore his kilt rather well, although the intervening years had added streaks of grey to his black hair and mustache, and more than a few lines around his eyes.

Those eyes looked a bit amused now, and...hadn't there been some story, once, about Neville poking one of them? That was all so long ago, and she would have never imagined that she'd be alone at night with any of the Death Eaters, much less this rather infamous one, but times had changed and there had been many, many extenuating circumstances.

"I doona force meself on lasses, I'm reformed, ye heard me say all that, aye?"

Hermione spluttered, because she'd actually been thinking just exactly that. "Yes...yes, I did...really, I wasn't, er...oh, sod it, let's just get inside and get that drink, shall we, it's bloody cold out here!" she said, looking up at him... _good Lord, he was large_...she thought. He chuckled and took her arm and led her inside, not looking the least bit concerned that he was heading into a Muggle establishment. _So there's that,_ she thought, apropos of nothing.

Once they'd been seated at a quiet table in a dark corner of the hotel bar and started on their drinks (Macnair ordered an entire bottle), she decided to forge on ahead with what she'd wanted to say at the Ministry.

"The reason I asked you here is that I, er, I rather need to visit Australia myself, you see. And I know this might sound odd, but I know next to nothing about it, and probably because of that, I sent my parents there, to keep them safe." _And why, oh why, did she need to tell this particular wizard that_...she immediately thought, but it was out there, no do-overs, no take-backs, and a rather lame-sounding excuse for a drink it was.

"Aye, Miss Granger, it seems a rather popular place for that sort o'thing. Me daughter took me son there, after..." he looked down at the table. "After the Pretender killed me wife."

"And you've just found out that's where he was," she added, at the same time that he nodded at her.

"Aye," he said. "They didna tell me until now, to keep him safe."

"So he'd be...how old, now?" She fiddled with her drinks coaster, just to have something to do. The whisky was warming her all over, and the picture on the coaster was a stag, standing on a Highland mountainside, next to a loch, rather like the countryside around Hogwarts, in fact, which had always intimidated her.

"Ten," he said. "His birthday was last month, the fifteenth. Heather-me daughter-thinks he should go to Hogwarts, he's been down for it since he was born, o'course..."

"Yes!" Hermione said, "Of course he should go, they've finished the rebuilding a while back, I took a tour, it's grand, you'd never know anything was ever damaged, and Harry's children are excited, his first son will be going there soon enough..." and she drifted off, realizing just exactly how much of a dolt she sounded, spouting off all this to a Death Eater...well, _former_ , of course. _Reformed_ , according to him...and paroled, and conditionally pardoned. And she'd heard genuine remorse in his testimony, actually, which was why she had even considered sitting here with him in the first place.

"So I've read," Macnair said, a bit sharply.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Macnair. I do realize that all sounded a bit..." she let her voice drift off and took a healthy slug of whisky rather than finishing her sentence, and then picked up the bottle and poured herself another drink, without asking permission.

"Like a Gryffindor," he said. "Nae harm done. Sort of hoping that's where the Hat puts Evan, in fact. Even Hufflepuff would be all right, I guess, near the kitchens. Speaking o' that-I really need a spot of food, would ye like some? I'll pay," he said.

"You have Muggle money?" She'd sort of assumed they'd go Dutch treat, and she could exchange his Galleons later.

"Been comin' here a lot," and with those words, he looked down at his own drinks coaster. "It reminds me of when I was first together with me wife. Of course, we'd always get a room upstairs. But they still have the same good whisky," and with that, he poured himself a drink, finishing the bottle, and Hermione realized that she'd had at least half of it, and she raised her hand for the barman, to request menus...and more drinks.

"Doona need one, know what I want," he said, as he got up, walked over, took a menu off the bar, and set it in front of Hermione. He didn't sit down. "Be back in a minute."

She ordered shepherd's pie, because it sounded good and filling, and she didn't recall when she'd last had anything close to a large meal...possibly this past Easter at the Weasleys, which had been an altogether uncomfortable situation, because Ron had showed up late and actually brought along his witch-of-the-moment, so she'd just bolted down her ham and begged off, saying she had a lot of work to do. Ginny had run after her and tried to say something but she'd just Apparated directly to her office and cried for three straight hours rather than working. And that had been the last time she'd seen Ron, and it was getting up on Christmas. _Sod him anyway_ , she thought.

"Are ye all right, Miss Granger?" Macnair's voice seemed to be coming from somewhere very far away, and she realized that she'd been sitting there, empty whisky glass in hand, staring off into space, while he'd come back and sat down...and the waitress was also there, bringing the food and another bottle of whisky. The waitress was very attractive and almost looked as if she could have been kin to the horrible, giggling witch who'd been clutching at Ron's arm, and also somehow, incredibly, flirting with George, too. Ginny had been furious and Harry hadn't spoken to him for months.

To Macnair's credit, he wasn't paying any attention to the waitress at all. _After all,_ Hermione thought, _she is a Muggle_.

"Er, you ordered two steaks?" she blurted.

"Aye, it wasnae a mistake," he said, winking at her. "I havena had any lunch."

"Oh...of course, sorry. Er...can I have a water?" Hermione directed this last at the waitress, because she realized she was...well, she was tipsy, because most probably the last time she'd had anything to drink had been that horrible Easter evening, when she'd finally gone home and drowned her sorrows in a bottle exactly like the one sitting in front of her. "Er, I just noticed...very odd...we seem to drink the same brand of whisky, did you know?" and she gestured toward the dark green bottle of Laphroaig.

"Doona tell anyone, but I think the Muggles make better whisky than we do."

Hermione laughed. "This one's rather an acquired taste, though." _Not that anyone would notice_ , she thought, _given the way I'm tossing it back like it's watered-down pumpkin juice._

 **"** Always thought it was like French kissin' a peat bog," he said, with a smile.

"Never thought of it that way, but you're right," she chuckled, and to her horror, she realized she'd turned bright red and she was glad it was dark in the bar, and she blamed the whisky, which was way too strong...it was the 15-year, she noted, not the 10-year that she normally purchased...and then there was the fact that _she_ hadn't had lunch either, or tea, or probably breakfast, even, as far as she recalled. And there was a very large, virile and handsome wizard across the table from her, and she didn't give a damn what he'd done or who he'd served, because she bloody wanted to be a peat bog at that very moment.

And she hoped he didn't practice Legilimency.

Just in case, she glanced down, grabbed her fork and started stabbing away at her pie, still musing. Had that particular spell been mentioned in his testimony? She remembered him talking about doing the Imperius curse a number of times, and Polyjuice for deception, and actually using lots of brute force, rather than spells...and she remembered Harry telling her, when she'd mentioned that she was working on Macnair's trial, when she'd met him for a rather hurried lunch at the Cauldron, that he'd nearly strangled him at the Hall of Prophecy, and that was when Neville had poked his eye. She made the mistake of looking at his arms then, and despite the thick jumper he was wearing, she realized they were rather large and quite capable of strangling someone...or embracing them...or possibly even picking them up and carrying them upstairs.

Meanwhile, he was slicing up his steak with apparent gusto, not paying any attention to her at all, thank God. And even more thankfully, at some point when she'd been away on mental vacation, music had started playing rather loudly from the jukebox next to the bar.

 _"Ready let's roll onto something new_

 _Takin' it's toll then I'm leaving without you_

 _'Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this_

 _I said heaven ain't close in a place like this..."_

"So is that the Weird Sisters, then? Didna think the Muggles listened to them."

"Eh, what?" Hermione nearly jumped from her seat when he spoke to her. "Er...wait, let me listen..." She kept up with Muggle pop music as an antidote to the rest of her life.

 _"I said heaven ain't close in a place like this_

 _Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight_

 _Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight..."_

"No, that's the Killers, then," said Hermione. _Of all the groups to be playing_ , she thought.

"Ah. Sounded a bit like the Sisters, that damn song about the hippogriff, never liked it."

"I suppose not," and she couldn't help herself, she smiled, recalling when she'd danced to that song with Viktor at the Yule Ball, and Ron had glared at her as if she was some sort of traitor, and then they'd had that huge fight, just one among many they'd had over the years. But of course, he'd have different memories of those times, wouldn't he...

"Quite," he said. "Ye know I never wanted to kill that one, they're magnificent creatures. Long story, though...maybe I'll tell ye sometime."

"I'd like to hear it," she said, and realized that sounded absurd, as if she was thinking of him as someone to see on a social basis, almost as if she were on a first date...rather than as she should be seeing him, as one of her assigned Ministry clients, a horrible person who'd done horrible things. She glared down at her shepherd's pie as if it had committed an offense and stuffed a forkful of food into her mouth before she could utter any further whisky-fueled stupidity.

"I canna get into it now, it's...ye know, I told me wife all about it here...well, not _here_..." he gestured around the pub, "but upstairs." He paused. "Sorry. Probably should have picked another place. Didna bring ye here to bore ye with me life story."

"Well, I've already heard quite a bit of that," she said. "So we can fast-forward."

"Er...sorry?"

"I'm sorry. That's a Muggle expression. We can skip some of that...er." Hermione did not often feel stupid or slow-witted or even awkward; nevertheless, tonight she was serving up a soupcon of all three. "So-your wife was American? How did she meet you?...Er..I'm sorry, I was out sick for that part of your testimony...that was when Percy had to take over for me." When she'd come back two days later, Percy had handed her a sheaf of papers with a note clipped to the top which read, " _Macnair had American wife, she was friends with an American Auror, M Imperiused her, LV killed her, and be glad you bloody didn't have to sit through listening to him go on about it. I think he's genuinely repentant, though. Details in the notes."_ She'd never bothered to read the testimony because she was also trying to make sense of the Malfoy testimony and was horribly overworked, and Percy's summary had got her up to speed well enough.

With that, the jukebox began blaring a rap tune that almost sounded familiar.

"She was with Snape," he said.

 _"It's going down  
The logical progression on the time line  
The separation narrowed down to a fine line  
To blur the edges so they blend together properly  
Take you on an audible odyssey  
Now it's going down..."_

 _The X-Ecutioners-really? It was almost unbelievable that this particular group should be rapping right now_ , she thought. Almost like magic...and she glanced around to see if there was anyone in the pub who might be responsible, but the bar was empty except for them, and she realized it was a Sunday evening, not exactly prime time.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione said, when she realized he was waiting for her to say something. "Er...are you sure? There wasn't _another_ wizard named Snape, was there?"

"The very same, never understood what she saw in that greasy bastard, but aye. She left him for me. I think she said one of her friends knew one of the Weasleys and they introduced her," he said, pouring himself another glass of whisky. "Do ye want another, lass?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm," she muttered. Of course he would know the Weasleys, most likely Charlie or possibly even Arthur, from working at the Ministry. She practically grabbed the drink from his hand and tossed it down. "But I don't want to talk about _them_ ," she added.

 _"It's going down  
The logical progression on the time line  
The separation narrowed down to a fine line  
To blur the edges so they blend together properly  
Take you on an audible odyssey  
Now it's going down..."_

"O'course ye wouldn't...sorry, er, Miss Granger," he said.

Of course, he read the _Prophet_ , just like everyone else...although thankfully he likely didn't read _Witch Weekly_ , the truly lurid stories about her and Ron were in there, including a relationship timeline and An Exclusive Interview with the arsehole, Cormac McLaggen.

"Call me Hermione, would you?" she said, looking directly at him, as the X-Ecutioners kept rapping, and she pushed the glass across the table. "Fill it again."

 _"It's going down  
The logical progression on the time line  
The separation narrowed down to a fine line  
To blur the edges so they blend together properly  
Take you on an audible odyssey  
Now it's going down..."_

The first thought that paraded rather slowly through Hermione's mind the next morning was that she was probably late for work.

Then she remembered that she had actually taken a week off now that the trials had ended-she'd been planning to make her initial enquiry at the Australian Wizarding Embassy about a Portkeys and visas and all that. She knew that further time might be required, and her supervisor was amenable. She was also planning to look into storage options for the belongings in her rather sparsely decorated flat. Slowly, she opened her eyes. It was very bright in the room.

Her flat, she recalled abruptly, did NOT have a flat-screen telly in the bedroom, but nevertheless there was one across the way from her coverlet-covered feet.

Further, her bed did not have a blue-flowered coverlet, nor did it normally have anyone in it but herself, but somehow wherever she was also had a rather large wizard sleeping next to her, the very same one who she'd been assigned to by the MLE to defend, who'd been charged on multiple counts, primarily that of being a Death Eater...but eventually, after a short stint in Azkaban, then house arrest with his parents, he'd been pardoned, contingent on his cessation of Dark activity.

Gingerly, she moved as far away from him on the bed as she could, and attempted to slide out from under the covers, before realizing too late that she was completely naked.

"Oh my God!" she said, just a little bit too loudly, jerking up on the covers to hide herself. All the movement woke Macnair up. He stirred and reached across the bed for her.

"Sorry, lass, didna mean to fall asleep on ye," he said. "Wanted another round, but I'm nae as young as I used to be."

"What the...what...round?" He pulled her into his arms and silenced her with a very deep kiss, which Hermione proceeded to enjoy until she realized, yet again, where she was and exactly what she was doing...and she pulled away and said..."I...er...I think I might have given you the wrong impression, Mr. Macnair, I'm...er...sorry."

"I'm not a bit sorry," he said, kissing her neck. "And weren't we on a first-name basis by the end of last night?"

"I suppose we were," she said. At this point, the memories were all flooding back to her, the third bottle of whisky drained, the pointless attempts she'd made to stem the tide of drunkenness by drinking several glasses of water, which just made a trip to the loo even more urgent. And when she'd come back, there he sat, annoying her by continuing to look so very large and muscular and virile...and that kilt...that damned kilt, she'd always liked them...and without thinking about it very much she'd reached across the table, taken his hand and baldly stated, like the lioness that she was, "Can you get us a room upstairs?" He looked at her and then kissed her hand. "I already have one, lass, I've been stayin' here all week."

And in that room they'd had one glorious go-round that had lasted for hours. He was incredible in bed-in every way as different from Ron as it was possible to be. He was extremely concerned with her pleasure above his, for one. They'd done things that she had only ever read about in books in the Restricted Section. He'd used his wand to cast some sort of spell that, she thought, would probably be illegal if the Ministry knew about it; he'd told her it was called Slytherin's special charm, and after that, she was surprised that she could even walk to the loo...he certainly hadn't needed any sizing assistance in the first place!

Just as she was musing about getting up and possibly visiting the loo yet again, a knock sounded on the door.

"That'll be breakfast," he said. "Just stay right here, I'll take care of it," and he got up and tossed on a robe with the name of the hotel embroidered on it, which for some reason she found rather amusing. The bellman pushed a cart into the room and Hermione saw Walden tip him. After the bellman departed, he flicked a wand over the bathrobe and threw her an identical one. "Here ye are, come on and have some food with me," he said. And although she couldn't imagine how she could even be hungry, she devoured everything on her plate, especially after Walden gave her an anti-hangover potion from his sporran.

"Thank you," she said, after a long draught of coffee. "I have some of those potions but I haven't used them in a while."

"Aye, I keep them on hand," he said, pouring himself another cup.

"Er, do you have any idea what time it is at all? I-er...probably should be getting back, and don't you...er, need to check out?"

"I asked them to let me leave the room late today; it's around noon, ye know."

"What? I...well, I suppose it's a good thing I took off work."

"I can get the room another night if ye would like. I know I would like..." he said, looking straight at her, and she'd noted through her interactions with him that he tended to be very, very direct. "...to fuck ye again, more than once."

"That...was once?" she said.

He chuckled. "Aye. It's been a verra long time for me."

"I'm...er, I'm not actually sure when the last time was for me, to be honest...oh, bloody hell...once with McLaggen after the Ministry Christmas Party, before he got married, _thank_ you very much and not so much as a bye-your-leave...I can't believe he did that stupid interview, I wish someone would hit him with a sodding Bludger and put him out of our misery..." and she trailed off. "Mr...er...um, Walden. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"I hope ye won't take this the wrong way, lass, but ye remind me of me wife, she was verra funny and smart like ye are."

"I have a feeling that's quite the compliment," Hermione said. "And I'm sorry about what happened to her."

He nodded. "I know." They were both silent for a while after that as they sipped their coffee and idly stared out of the window. The room was a fixed point in time which neither of them really wanted to leave or disturb. Finally, Walden broke the silence. "We can either stay here, or if ye like, we can go to me lodge. It's been closed up for a while, though, so you'll have to excuse the state o' things."

"I...er...I have to do some things this week, visit the Australian Embassy and such..." She noted that he hadn't suggested that they go to her place.

"I wanted to say...ye can share me Portkey. It's set to go next Monday." They'd even made him wait an extra, pointless week, she thought. It figured.

"I...er..." There didn't seem to be a reason to debate with him at this point; she'd made her decision last night. The uncomfortable thought that he might have manipulated or coerced her in some way crossed her mind. However, she knew that if he had done such a thing, she'd have more than enough evidence to put him in Azkaban for the rest of his life...not to mention which, his wand was incapable of casting any Dark spells (and wasn't all that great at casting _any_ spells, to be honest). And further, of course, she'd been the one to suggest going to his room in the first place. He'd even asked her, several times, as they were walking toward the lift and even as they paused in the hallway outside the room, if this was really what she wanted, and that it was absolutely fine with him if they just went in and slept off the drinking...in fact, he'd offered to leave her there, get another room for himself, and come back and check on her in the morning.

In answer to that, she took the key-card from his hand (he'd been staring at it in puzzlement-how had he managed to gain entry before, she wondered), opened the door, beckoned him into the room, locked and warded the door with her wand, and then gone straight over and reached under his kilt.

He looked at her. "I doona want to go alone."

(Note: the songs playing in the pub are, in order: "Somebody Told Me," by the Killers and "It's Goin' Down" by the X-Ecutioners)


	3. The Company of Old Friends

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 3 - The Company of Old Friends**

The countryside around Walden's hunting lodge was wild and untamed, and the shrubbery outside looked as if it got trimmed possibly once a year or so...in fact, the main house (which was rather larger than she had expected) and outbuildings looked very nearly abandoned, and Hermione's heart gave a little jump, as she wondered if this hadn't all been an elaborate ruse to get her alone and possibly kidnap her...or worse.

It was true that at the moment, none of her friends, acquaintances or co-workers knew where she was...but over the last few years, she'd gradually estranged herself from just about all close entanglements. Harry and Ginny were the only people who saw her on a regular basis, and since they'd become parents, their attention was focused mainly at home.

"Sorry, lass, I told ye that the lodge had been closed up for a while," Walden said abruptly. Hermione jumped again.

"Are you doing Legilimency?" she asked. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Nay, I saw it in your expression," he said. "I canna do that spell, thought ye knew that, it's one of those rules in that wee book I got with this bloody thing," and he looked down at his wand in distaste. "I miss me old wand."

She'd seen his old wand and had been with him when it was snapped. It was...and she blushed a bit at the memory, because she'd actually thought at the time that it was quite longer and thicker than most she'd seen, dark wood with an entwined skull and snake at the top. Had it chosen him from the very beginning at Ollivanders? She thought not, but had never asked. Both of them had flinched when the Auror snapped it, and to make it worse, he'd not offered the pieces back to Hermione, as she'd expected (and as had been done with some of the others...Thorfinn Rowle had looked particularly grateful); he'd instead cast Incendio on it, spat on the ashes, and then looked at Macnair as if he expected a reply. When he didn't get one, he'd muttered "Sodding Death Eater scum," and walked from the room.

A few minutes later, in a bit of synchronicity that Hermione found slightly amusing, Mafalda Hopkirk, the Improper Use of Magic functionary that she'd impersonated in order to steal Slytherin's locket from Umbridge, showed up. After an hour-long, rather patronizing lecture, she presented Walden with the aforementioned informational booklet and his new wand, which reminded both of them as nothing so much as a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fake.

"I'm...er, sure you do," she said, clutching her own wand tighter. Every witch and wizard in the courtroom had visibly and audibly flinched during Lucius Malfoy's testimony about how the Dark Lord had broken his wand out of its holder. "Wands are so personal. I didn't enjoy when I had to use...well...another witch's wand, one time. It felt...wrong."

Walden waved his wand at the lodge's front door, which slowly unlocked. "Whose wand did ye use?"

"Madam Lestrange's," she said.

"Aye, she was verra wrong, but ye know that, ye were there for that part of me testimony, I think?"

"Unfortunately, I was," Hermione said, with a grimace. "Can we go in?" While they'd been standing on the front stoop, a cold rain had begun to fall.

"Aye," and he opened the door widely and gestured her in. Glancing around, Hermione immediately cast Lumos, because the interior was as dark and gloomy as the countryside. White shrouds covered all the furniture and the pictures in the entrance hall. Walden was waving his wand around and muttering spells, and, very slowly, one of the shrouds lifted from a massive table, on which set a candelabra. Further muttering caused one of the ten candles on it to be lit. Walden stared down at the floor and muttered again, and after a few uncomfortable minutes, Hermione realized that he wasn't casting spells then, he was cursing softly to himself.

"Walden? Shall I assist?" she asked, and then immediately wished she hadn't.

"I'll get one of the elves over," he finally said, in what was very nearly a growl. "Sorry...Binkus?!"

A very old house-elf dressed in a tartan tea towel appeared and bowed low. "Master Walden! We was expecting you back at the castle!"

"Tell me Da I willna be coming back there this week, and get some of the others to help ye, I need some food and drink and a fire in the kitchen and one...er, upstairs-in me bedroom, get that opened up and aired out. And get someone to help Miss Hermione with her things..." and he paused and looked at her, and then added, "Please." That last bit must have been difficult for him, she thought. Given his former line of work, he'd likely heard all about her fondness for house-elves. She wondered if he was one of those Pureblood types who kept the heads of former ones on the wall and decided that was a subject best left alone for the time being.

"Of course, Master Walden! I is doing all this right away!" With a bow to Hermione, the elf vanished.

"We could...er, we could go back to my flat," Hermione began. "Really, nobody ever visits..." and then she let her voice trail off. It was clear that Walden was horribly embarrassed by his poorly-performing wand and the state of his house and she had absolutely no idea what to say to improve the situation. After the breakfast (that was really brunch) at the hotel, he'd given her a very pointed, come-hither look, so (feeling rather awkward at first) she'd gotten up and sat in his lap, and they'd started kissing again, and then he'd picked her up and taken her into the bath, where he started a hot shower, then slowly removed her hotel robe and his, and they'd spent what seemed like hours in the steam, exploring each other's bodies. When neither of them could stand up anymore, they'd moved to the bed, where he'd pulled her up on top of him and impaled her on his massive prick with a growl and urged her to ride him as hard as she could, and they'd come to such an explosive climax that she'd not properly mentally recovered until they were somehow at her flat, and she was packing the necessary items for a month's journey in her beloved beaded bag, while Walden coaxed her owl into its cage.

"Nay, lass, I need ye with me," he said, slowly. "I havena been back here since...since..." He glanced around and then waved his wand. Another candle sputtered slowly into life. "Since the morning after he killed her." No need to re-state who he was; everyone knew who.

"Oh my God...I'm so sorry, I didn't know." And Hermione took his hand, then, and looked up at him, and he waved his wand again, and the next candle seemed to ignite faster, with a slightly brighter light.

Just then a series of pops sounded in the kitchen, followed by the patter of elf feet and high, chittering voices. An elf ran by them, headed for the staircase at the end of the hall. "See, they're back now, it'll all be done, so we can relax," he said.

"What exactly is this 'relax' business you speak of?" she asked.

"Nae sure, but I canna do it with me parents in the castle, and I'm sorry, I've been stayin' at that Muggle place every time I have ta come ta London, and nae offense, but yer flat is...well, it's..."

"In Muggle London too, yes," she said. "I quite understand. Frankly, I'm impressed that you were as comfortable as you were at that hotel."

"Well, it was...I've told ye...it was where me wife and I went, but that was before we were married, ye see, er, when she was still with...er..."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or offended that he'd taken her to the same place where he'd had an affair...but this was hardly a typical situation, was it? Certainly not a relationship, not yet, anyway...but after working with him for the better part of three years, off and on, she likely knew more information than his wife had known about him, given they'd only been together for, what was it, a year or so? (And now, her traitorous mind nudged, you know him _exactly_ the way she'd known him...in the Biblical sense! And she had been with Snape, too...wonder what _that_ was like?!)

"Master Walden and Miss, I is needing your bags now to take to the bedroom!" The old house elf reappeared in the hallway and snapped his fingers, and the rest of the candles lit.

Walden reached in his robe pocket and handed a magically-shrunk suitcase to the elf. "Here ye are, could ye take the laundry out of it?" Hermione reached in her robe pocket, pulled out the beaded bag and handed it to the elf, saying "I'll unpack this one, it's all right, just hang it up."

After the elf left, Walden looked at her. "Do ye mind at all stayin' with me in me room, lass? If you dinna want, I can have a guest room made up..."

She hadn't actually wanted a guest room, if the truth be told; she was, for once in her life, simply going with the flow and not trying to micromanage the future. "No, that's fine. I would like some tea now, though, if we can go and get that?" He took her arm and escorted her to the kitchen, in which three elves were currently bustling around, including the older one who'd just taken their bags.

They spent a pleasant hour at the table being served tea and toast. Hermione quite liked the old house-elf, Binkus, who looked at her curiously but not impolitely. She glanced out of the kitchen window at the rapidly-darkening sky. Walden sat quietly sipping at his tea, and when he was done, he produced a pipe and tobacco and (after asking her permission) proceeded to smoke, while leafing through one of the two copies of the Evening Prophet that the elves had brought. He was clearly very comfortable in this room, and she imagined, due to the small smile on his face as he read, that he might have been recalling previous pleasant times spent here with his wife.

Although Hermione had a rather possessive streak while in school where Ron was concerned, the intervening years and all the witches had cured her of that bad habit. She hadn't wanted to date anyone for the first few years at the Ministry, although several wizards had made attempts, including the horrible McLaggen...

Walden was crumpling a page of the Prophet in his hands, a scowl on his face. She flicked her eyes quickly at the upside-down page number in the corner and quickly flipped to the same page in her copy and was rather horrified to read...

 _ **Rumour Has It? by Rita Skeeter**_

 _ **GRANGER'S PERSONAL DEATH EATER TRIALS?  
Noted MLE barrister and Golden Trio brain-trust Hermione Granger was sighted by this reporter late last evening in the company of infamous ex-Death Eater and former Ministry executioner Walden Macnair, headed out for what appeared to be a very cozy evening. We weren't privy to their destination, but a confidential source at the Ministry stated that Macnair, who is currently on parole, was in town to register for an international Portkey, and he's been spotted checking in to the Thistle Hotel in Trafalgar Square-a thoroughly Muggle establishment-on numerous occasions.**_

"Bugger," Hermione muttered. "What the sodding hell was she doing there?"

It was then that she heard the tapping on the kitchen window, indicating that one...no, two owls were waiting at the window. And the fireplace flared up, and a face that she was rather familiar with from her work appeared, and said, "Walden, whatever in Circe's name are you up to, old friend?"

Walden stood up and strode over to the fireplace. "Lucius, you could try givin' some warning next time, aye?"

"I sent an owl, but apparently you'd already left your hotel. Is that Miss Granger I see with you? Mind if I Floo through?"

"I do mind, but I doubt it would stop ye," Walden growled.

Meanwhile, Hermione turned to the window, but the elves had already let the owls in. A large eagle owl dropped a letter on grey parchment next to Walden's tea cup and immediately flew off, looking rather self-important. A tiny old owl dropped a letter next to her cup. Shaken, she offered Pigwidgeon a piece of toast, and the owl head-butted her in gratitude before twittering and taking back off out the open window. Binkus closed the window with a thump, as Malfoy stepped through the fireplace and used his wand to dust the ashes off his robes, which Hermione did not notice, as she was mechanically slitting open her letter.

 _I came to take you to lunch today and they told me you weren't there._

 _Is it true what they said?_

 _-Ron_

"Why does he even care," she muttered, to nobody in particular, and then she remembered that she should probably be polite, so she stood up. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," she said, as she walked slowly around to the other side of the table. It was a good thing, she thought, that Skeeter hadn't gotten a picture, because she was in the same outfit that she'd been wearing since yesterday. There hadn't been much time to change. Malfoy took her hand, kissed it and bowed. "Good afternoon, Miss Granger. Have you come straight from the Ministry?" He looked her up and down and she was sure that he was likely cataloguing the extreme non-freshness of her attire, including her lack of stockings.

"Ye bloody well know she hasn't, Lucius, so why don't ye tell us what the fuck ye're doing here," Walden said, stepping in between them.

"Damage control, my brother, because you seem incapable. Let's go put up some wards, this place is as wide open as the Cauldron! I'm sure that between us we can likely get these accursed sticks to produce some actual results."

"Shall I help?" Hermione interjected.

"Oh, indeed, Miss Granger, I think you'd better, or we'll be out there until Walden has to leave for Australia...or am I correct in thinking that you're both going?"

"That's nae yer concern, laddie!" Walden snapped.

Lucius didn't seem perturbed in the least. Of course, Hermione thought, he'd spent the better part of three years having the most unpleasant houseguest possible, and thus he'd become inured to rudeness. "Oh, it is my concern, considering Evan is my godson and you tasked me to assist with family matters all those years ago. Further, I was the one who notified Heather that the trials had ended, because you didn't seem to be interested in anything save drinking at that Muggle pub!"

"I am going, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said. " I have my own reasons for going there, but Walden has asked me to accompany him, and I agreed."

"Hmm, we're all rather familiar here, aren't we?" Lucius said, as he led the pair outside. "First, we need to put back up your Anti-Apparition Ward; you'll have to do that one, Miss Granger, if you don't mind? Walden, I'm fairly sure that you and I together can do at least a passable Protective Charm..."

Hermione had already started pacing around, muttering the required charms and spells. As she put the finishing touches on the Muggle-Repelling Spell, Malfoy remarked, " _Very_ well done. Don't suppose there's any way you can get that dreadful bint back into a jar, is there?"

"I'm not sure she'd fall for that one again, Mr. Malfoy, but when we get back inside, I will be sending out an owl that might serve the same metaphorical purpose." Anthony Goldstein, her old Ravenclaw DA friend, was an editor at the Prophet, and they'd remained in touch over the years; she normally sent him a holiday card.

Walden, meanwhile, was shaking his wand as if that might make it work faster. "The sodding charm hasn't even gotten over that tree yet! Lass, could ye try holding me hand again?"

Malfoy's eyebrows rose so high that they threatened to disappear into his hairline, but he remained silent as Hermione took Walden's hand, and they all watched as the protective charm silently ascended.


	4. Solve Et Coagula

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 4 -** **Solve Et Coagula**

An hour later, the rather unlikely trio sat around the dinner table, waiting to be served by a small contingent of Malfoy Manor elves, who had been pressed into service in order to "get this place back to, at least, an approximation of civility," or so Lucius had said, _sotto voce_ , to Hermione, when Walden had stepped away to the loo.

"Have either of you ever been to Australia?" Hermione said, to break the silence, after she sat down her wineglass.

"Nay," Walden grunted. "I think that was probably rather the point; not only have most of us not been there, neither had our erstwhile leader." Lucius amplified. "Although Crabbe and Goyle have been making noises about taking the New Zealand option."

"I wondered if any of you would consider that; I know some of the others have been applying at St. Mungo's and at that new think-tank..."

"The Alliance for Magical Unity," Lucius said. "Indeed, I'd tried to convince this one that he needed to come there with me," and he gestured at Walden.

"Still nae interested," Walden said. "But I am still interested in why ye invited yerself to me house, laddie."

"Because, my dear Walden, it's clear that the unpleasant stasis that both our lives have embodied for the last seven years is about to end. It's obvious that you're finally moving on, and I believe that's an event that should be celebrated." He smiled a bit, as his words were punctuated by the elves levitating in a number of platters piled high with delicious, savory foods, which were distributed around the table. Everyone took a moment to fill their respective plates and for a while, polite silence reigned, punctuated only by the clink of cutlery.

When the meal was winding down, Walden finally said, after he'd drained his cup of coffee, "Thought we weren't ever going to have any more...parties, laddie, or isna that what ye said after that night?"

"Walden, I hardly think you need to bring that up, I was under duress-"

"Pardon me, but I do actually recall that part of the testimony," Hermione said. "And what you said, Mr. Malfoy, to my recollection, was that, " _this will be the last Revel ever held at my Manor, and I'd be willing to go under Crucio rather than endure anymore."_

"Good Merlin, Miss Granger, I certainly hope you didn't memorize everything that was said during the trials." Lucius picked up his coffee while looking appraisingly at Hermione. "That bit shouldn't be taken out of context, anyhow."

"During the time it was necessary, I most certainly did, Mr. Malfoy."

"I know what ye're doing, Lucius, and ye need to fucking stop. After ye stuff yerself with those petits fours, ye'll be needin' to leave." Walden stood up. "Pardon, I'll be back shortly."

After he'd strode through the door, Lucius turned again to Hermione. "I realize this is rather impertinent, but would you happen to have any insight on why he keeps walking out of the room in the middle of conversations? Does he have...er...some sort of condition?"

"No, he's...well, he's taking some advice I gave him a while back. I suggested that he learn some anger management techniques, and one of them involves taking himself out of stressful situations before he says or does something he's going to regret."

"That all sounds...well, rather _Muggle_ ," Lucius said, frowning slightly, and Hermione heard the slightest echo of the other, more hated word.

She looked him right in the eye. "It absolutely is. You'll have to pardon me, but I was also listening to that part in the testimony when you stated...and I'll have to paraphrase here, that although the Dark Lord felt it was necessary to prune diseased family trees, that you had come to the opinion that it was instead best to...er...fertilize them with the most positive and talented materials that could be found among those of us who were hampered in our magical development on account of our parentage. In other words, Muggle-borns like myself, of course. I am rather appreciative that you've managed to overcome your predilection for that other term."

"But of course, Miss Granger. Or may I be permitted to call you Hermione?" Lucius languidly lifted his arm and snapped his fingers. "Elves, would you please bring the brandy and dessert, and see if you can locate Mr. Macnair?"

"You may certainly call me Hermione, if I might be permitted the same courtesy?"

"But of course, my dear," Lucius said, immediately taking a further liberty. "As for your cogent summation, I did in fact say that, although I far prefer to refer to that...creature as the Pretender. And it does seem, however, as if Walden is also taking _my_ advice, at least when it comes to the..." and he paused, and didn't finish his sentence until after he'd taken a bite of his first petit four and washed it down with a sip of brandy. "...shall we say...fertilizing?" He paused for a minute after that, and took another bite of the miniature pastry. "Absolutely delightful. Can I tempt you?" and he picked up the silver tray and extended it toward her.

"With just the pastry, or something more...Lucius?"

At that moment, Walden returned to the table and stepped next to Malfoy, plucking the tray out of his hand. "I warned ye, laddie."

"You did, old friend, but I haven't finished my dessert yet, and I did ask the lady a question."

"What ye're _doin'_ ," Walden said, as he loomed over Lucius, "is tryin' to start up a Revel at me house without me permission." And with that, he plucked a biscuit off the tray and munched on it.

"Well, there's nothing saying we can't move the rest of the evening's amusements to the Manor," Lucius said. "Of course, only if you are interested, Hermione. Since it does appear that you paid studious attention to the narrative, I don't believe I'll be needing to give you that much in the way of background information. With only three of us, we won't require elaborate choreography, but I'm certain it will prove quite pleasurable."

Hermione had no idea what to say. Somehow, the situation had escalated rather quickly from courtroom testimony to dry words on parchment to a realistic tableau. She'd spent many a night reading the rather extensive Malfoy transcriptions, and-to be perfectly honest-she'd found the material on the Dark Revels, Malfoy's semi-annual libidinous celebrations-extremely titillating, to the point where she had, more than once, visualized herself in one of the trysting rooms with a selection card, and thought seriously about which of the Death Eaters she would choose...or perhaps even a combination? Macnair had definitely been one of the ones she'd wondered about, seeing as how she had become familiar with him by that time...and he was, in reality, much better than she'd been able to imagine! And then there was also Rowle-she remembered when she had first seen him, as a seventh-year Slytherin-and Professor Snape...he had that intense stare and that voice, like honey mixed with absinthe, it was such a shame that he'd died for the cause...and Lucius, for that matter, had featured in at least one of her fantasies...and it was so very odd calling him that, she was falling down the rabbit hole every minute he spoke...

"...it's not as if my wretched in-law is a factor any more, Walden. That was quite enough to put us all off for a while, but this one," and with that, Lucius nodded in Hermione's direction, "although a rather surprising choice, has proven herself to be a worthy one," and he picked up her hand and kissed it. "What say you?"

At that point, Hermione wished for nothing so much as an immediate return to normalcy, something like the refuge of the Hogwarts library, or possibly even the Gryffindor Common Room on a school night, when the most she had ever had to worry about was whether she could finish both her assignments and whatever Harry and Ron had decided to pass off to her. And then she remembered the owl from Ron, and was propelled, juddering, back to reality.

"I'm sorry, but I, er, I need to send a couple of owls," she stammered. "Er, that's not to do with this, I mean, I need to send one to the Prophet, and return one to...er...my friend." She withdrew her hand from Lucius', stood up, pushed in her chair, and started to walk out of the room. "Pardon me."

"To that fucking Weasley piece of shite, ye mean!" Walden said, as he sat the desserts tray down on the table, and then approached Hermione, putting his arm around her. "Why don't ye let him fucking stew! He's been playin' ye around for years! He doesn't deserve ye in the slightest!"

 _Good lord, maybe he had actually read Witch Weekly_ , Hermione thought. "Regardless, I do need to send the one to the Prophet."

With that, Lucius stood up and approached them. "Let me take care of the Prophet for you...I still own a substantial interest there." He positioned himself on Hermione's other side. "Dear friends, I've brought along the potions...there's no reason for us to hesitate, the night is still young...shall we adjourn this to the Manor or upstairs?" With that, he reached into his robe pocket and withdrew two cut-glass potion bottles, one red and one green, and set them upon the table, next to the petit fours.

"I can see ye're not going to stop goin' on about this," Walden began.

"Just drink the potion, brother. In honor of our long and profitable friendship. If, after that, you still wish me to leave, I will, and with compliments to the both of you, as I'm sure you'll have a _most_ enjoyable evening."

"So that's not Amortentia, then, is it?" Hermione asked, nimbly extricating herself from the pair and bending down to examine the bottles.

Lucius chuckled. "Certainly not. These are _very_ far from being Ministry...or Gryffindor-approved!"

"Did you brew them? What are the ingredients?" She picked up the green one. "I assume this one is for me and the other is for the both of you?"

Lucius continued with his chuckling, and picked up his brandy glass. "Tell me, Walden, exactly how much whisky did you have to give her to get her to stop asking questions and get on with sucking your cock?"

"If you absolutely must know, Lucius," Hermione said, drawing his name out into several syllables as she turned to look at him with a smirk on her face, "I drank the whisky all on my own, and I was the one to grab him first."

"Oho! I suppose I should be telling _you_ to drink the potion first, then! Walden, I believe you've discovered a treasure. And whenever did you become so shy and retiring? I think I've made a mistake all these years eschewing the fine witches of Gryffindor."

"I think ye probably didna bring enough potion, _brother_ ," Walden growled. "I always took at least two of 'em."

"Not an issue," Lucius said, tapping the red bottle with his wand.

Nothing happened.

"Bugger! I bloody hate this thing!" Lucius growled.

"If they're not Ministry approved," Hermione said, "your wand won't work for that." She neatly tapped the bottle with her wand twice. "Luckily for us all, _I'm_ not monitored." A second and third bottle instantly appeared. "And before you ask-you'll be using these wands for five to ten years; release from the program is contingent on at least one year of positive results from monthly wand monitoring by Madam Hopkirk. It's in the booklet; didn't you read it?"

"If we're to have any sort of pleasurable evening," Lucius said, as he picked up one of the red potion bottles, "I'll have to do my best to _not_ think about Madam Hopkirk monitoring my wand." He uncorked it and drank. Walden silently walked over and quaffed his bottles down, sitting them back on the table with a bit more force than was necessary. He then moved closer to Hermione.

Hermione picked up the green bottle and downed it in one go. "So, how long is the incubation period? Half-hour or so? I really would like to get that Prophet business taken care of."

"Just about a half-hour, although you'll start to feel the effects in a couple of minutes. That's when we used to have the ladies make their choices, if you recall from your reading. And it should last for..." and with this, he glanced up and down at her..."I'd say about five hours for you."

"Jolly good," she said. "Did you want to get on with that owl?"

"Walden, why don't you take her upstairs to the bath? I'll get all this cleared up, send the owl, and..." he paused and looked directly at her, "...join you straightaway."


	5. Owl Post

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thank you to all reviewers and those who have favorited and followed this story. I will endeavor to keep you entertained.

(OBTW, my fancast for Macnair is Joe Manganiello, but Lucius remains, as always, the marvelous Jason Isaacs.)

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 5 - Owl Post**

The bath, at first, was a rather frustrating experience. Walden's wand waves produced a rather thin stream of rusty-looking, very frigid water, rather than the hot, perfumed water they'd both been expecting...not to mention which, the bathroom was dark and gloomy, with no towels or any grooming products in sight. When Hermione started to try and fix it, he gave her a look, and they both just stood there for several minutes, as the faucet continued to sputter away into the large, dusty bathtub.

"Elves?" she finally asked, lowering her wand.

"Aye," he grunted. While they waited, seated at the end of Walden's oversized bed, Binkus appeared to rectify the situation.

"Sorry again, lass," he said, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace that dominated the other side of the room.

"It's really all right. It's not as if you didn't warn me about it."

"Aye, but I didna warn ye about Lucius. And it is yer choice if ye want him to stay or nae. I wouldn't be chuffed if ye sent him back to the Manor to have a hot date with Madam Palmer and her five sisters."

Hermione laughed, and then asked, "But, what about Madam Malfoy..."

"Isna there. She came to the trials wi' him, but she's been in France for quite a while now."

"She certainly was making it seem as if she still cared about him the last few years."

"She was doing him a favor," Walden said. "He always has some kind o' balance sheet, no matter who he deals with. And by the way, lass, he now has one with ye; I'm sure ye noticed."

"Oh, I noticed. I'm still planning on sending an owl to my friend at the Prophet. Anyway...what happens if you drink that potion and, well, don't follow up on it?"

"I never found out for meself, personally, but Avery was always doin' a powerful lot of wanking at the Revels."

Hermione turned to look at him. "I'm not going to make _you_ wank off," she said. "Lucius, on the other hand..." and she winked at him, just before she lightly kissed him on the lips. "He may have to wait for his dessert; he did remind me it was ladies' choice."

He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. "Are ye feelin' it at all, lass?"

"I most certainly am, and it appears you are as well," and she slid her hands down over the tent in his robes.

"I'm always like that around ye," he whispered in her ear. "For ages now."

"Since when?"

"Since ye started workin' wi' me," he said. "When ye didna treat me like the rest of the Ministry cunts did. Why do ye think I wanted to thank ye the other night?"

"But I never noticed..." She'd moved down now, so that she was on her knees before him; his breath was coming in short, sharp bursts, his eyes slitted with pleasure, as she slowly slid her hands beneath his robes.

"Lots o' practice keepin' things to meself in Azkaban and at me parents..." and then he groaned loudly as she took him into her mouth. "Och..." he grunted. "Och...the potion works faster if ye're already connected to yer partner..."

"Oh, indeed it does," said Lucius, from the doorway. "And it's rather more intense...So finish him off, my dear, I can wait...for now," he added, as he smoothed his hands down the front of his robes. "I'll go check on that bath, shall I?"

"Bloody...ummmm...bloody hell, Lucius," Walden managed to stammer. "Och...ye know it's the lass's choice for ye to stay...ummmm...I canna..." He'd tangled his hands in her hair and was pushing her head back and forth in a slow, pleasurable motion as she hummed around him.

"You 'canna,' and she's rather too busy to answer right now, although she is nodding her head, so I'll take that as a 'yes'. I'll be waiting for you both in the bath," he said, and with an elegant flick of his wand, he attempted to divest himself of his robes.

Unfortunately, the robes did nothing other than flipping up and shaking about wildly, while Lucius cursed. "What the hell is this! Stop that, you blasted things, just...fucking...STOP!"

"What are ye saying...I canna stop now...I'm gonna spend...oh lass, oh aye, right there...ummmm..." and with a very loud groan, Walden spent himself.

"What on earth was all that..." Hermione slowly turned around. "Oh." Lucius was still encased in his flapping, shaking robes and was still muttering spells in order to try and calm them down, which wasn't improving the situation. "Someone at the Ministry really has a sick sense of humour."

Walden stood up, but he was still breathing rather heavily. "Lucius," he said. "I think this is probably yer cue to exit, laddie."

"As soon as I get...these...sodding...robes...to...stop..." None of his spells seemed to have the least effect; his robes had billowed out like a schooner at full sail.

"Finite Incantatem!" shouted Hermione. "Now, really, Lucius. I don't think there's any way even another bottle of potion is going to bring the mood back for a while. Why don't you just run along home now, and you can imagine what we'll be doing for the rest of the evening? I promise I'll take some very...detailed...notes."

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke rather early; old habits, it seemed, died hard. Walden was peacefully sleeping, one arm flung over his head, and she decided to leave him there for the time being. She cast Muffliato around herself, pulled some grooming items out of her beaded bag and stashed them in the bathroom, and finally, found her robe, pajamas and slippers, donned them, and headed down to the kitchen, where Binkus was already hard at work cleaning and fixing tea. A glance in the larder revealed that it was empty, save four dusty cans of haggis, but baskets of food were sitting on the table, clearly ready to stock the shelves.

After several polite requests, she installed herself at the table next to the baskets with a stack of parchment and a steaming mug of tea. Her owl, Miranda, was perched on the top of the chair across from her, pecking happily away at part of a toasted muffin, as her "Accio Owl Treats" spell had not produced any result.

Within thirty minutes, she'd written three letters, one to the Australian Wizarding Embassy asking if she needed to apply for a visa prior to Portkeying, one to Anthony Goldstein, asking if he could, very politely, point out to Rita Skeeter that she had actually been Walden's assigned defence barrister (although it was hardly a secret) and he'd merely come by her office to thank her for all her service on his behalf, and, finally, one to Percy Weasley (who was not technically her supervisor, but he was senior to her) telling him that she would actually need to be taking off the extra time, most likely a month, and could he please pass the information on to anyone who needed it?

Miranda took the latter two letters, and Binkus brought her an owl from somewhere (she wondered if it was Walden's), for the Embassy letter...and then there was just one more to send, and she'd noted that the letter from Ron was not in the same place it had been when she left the kitchen the previous evening. It was clear that Walden had read it, rather by accident or design, she was not sure...and she was also not sure how to take his rather possessive-sounding pronouncement, either.

Nevertheless, there was no good purpose to never answering Ron's owl, so after some deliberation, she wrote:

 _Ronald,_

 _As you may or may not recall, I need to go to Australia to try and locate my parents and break the charm, so they can return home...if they wish. I've taken off time to do that, which is, I suppose, what my co-workers told you. Thank you very much for the offer of lunch; I'll take you up on it after I get back._

 _-H._

Of course, she mused, her polite fiction would best be served by waiting for her own owl to return to post the letter, rather than attempting to borrow another of the Macnair owls...so she sipped at her tea and stared out at the rain-swept countryside. But she did not have to wait long; two owls approached-one with what appeared to be two copies of the Prophet, and the eagle owl of Lucius', bearing a single grey envelope.

She wasted no time in using the paper-carrier owl to send her missive to Ron, and sat one of the papers aside for Walden to read later. The owl from Lucius was actually for her, and read:

 _My Dear Hermione,_

 _I am truly sorry at what transpired last evening and hope to be able to make it up to you before your departure overseas._

 _With Much Admiration,_

 _Lucius_

"Hmmm, so it's _still_ my choice, then, is it?" she chuckled to herself, before flipping the note over and dashing off a very hurried reply:

 _If time permits._

 _-H._

After all, she still might need to make an in-person Embassy visit, and she was truly enjoying Walden's quiet companionship. With that, she finished her tea (Binkus immediately filled it) and flipped through the Prophet. Not only was there no further gossip from Skeeter, there was not a Skeeter column at all to be found on any page. And since, Hermione mused, there was no wizarding Internet, it wasn't as if the story would live on long-it was most likely already being used to line owl and rat cages and hold fish and chips at Susan Bones' new Diagon Alley eatery. Clearly, Lucius' favors were rather more potent than his current wand, and she considered, just for a moment, sending an addendum to her rather terse note. On the other hand, the Malfoy testimony had dominated her life for the last few years, so she almost felt as if they had already been to bed.

An hour later, both the paper and her leisurely breakfast finished, she started to get up from the table, but glimpsed the paper-carrier owl hurtling back toward the house, a red envelope clutched in its beak.

"What the..." Hermione said, as she automatically cast Muffliato, before opening the window.

The Howler was addressed to "Miss Hermione Granger, Wherever She Is!" and instantly opened itself up, and a very familiar, angry voice filled the silence-bubble around her.

" **HERMIONE, I WAS JUST AT YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU AREN'T HOME AND THERE'S A STACK OF MAIL THERE FOR YOU, SO I WENT TO HARRY AND GINNY'S BUT YOU AREN'T THERE EITHER AND THEY HAVEN'T HEARD FROM YOU IN A WEEK! AND PERCY JUST TOLD ME YOU HAVEN'T LEFT FOR AUSTRALIA YET, BECAUSE HE JUST GOT AN OWL SAYING YOU'RE TAKING OFF FOR A MONTH AS OF TODAY...AND HE ALSO TOLD ME THAT THE LAST TIME HE SAW YOU, YOU WERE GOING OFF SOMEWHERE WITH THAT FOUL, DISGUSTING FUCKING DEATH EATER EXECUTIONER WHO KILLED BUCKBEAK, AND I READ ABOUT THAT IN THE PAPER, TOO, AND YOU'D BETTER NOT STILL BE WITH HIM**...and the Howler paused a bit, likely for Ron to take a breath... **OR...OR YOU'LL BE SORRY!"**

Hermione poked her head out of the bubble. "Accio Single Malt," she barked, as the Howler exploded into ash on the table behind her, and a bottle obligingly removed itself from one of the baskets on the table for her. After two quick slugs, she handed her bread crusts to the owl, and told it to wait, then, ensuring she was still in the bubble, she held her wand to her throat and intoned...

" **YOU HAVE A LOT OF NERVE, YOU...YOU...TOMCATTING GRYFFINDORK! I'D BE A LOT SORRIER IF I HAD TO LOOK AT YOUR SMIRKING FACE! GO FUCK ONE OF YOUR PATHETIC SLAGS AND DON'T BOTHER WRITING ME AGAIN...AND BY THE WAY, HE DIDN'T KILL BUCKBEAK, YOU STUPID, BRAINLESS TWIT, BUT I WOULDN'T EXPECT YOU TO REMEMBER THAT EITHER!"** She smashed the tip of her wand into the top piece of parchment, which immediately turned red and folded itself up. The owl hopped over, grabbed it, and soared out the window and Hermione slumped in her seat and muttered "Finite."

"What's goin' on here, lassie?" Walden said, as he approached the table. He was wearing a large tartan lounging robe and a tall pair of wool socks. "What was that all about?"

"That," Hermione said, taking another slug of whisky, straight from the bottle, "was hopefully the end of something I should have ended a long time ago."


	6. Dough and Sympathy

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Again, thank you to all who have reviewed/followed/favorited so far. Please feel free to drop a review in the box at the end of this chapter. There is a lot more to come!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 6 - Dough and Sympathy**

Walden sat down at the table next to her and glanced at the bottle. "I'd say it's a bit early for that sort o' thing, but...that's never stopped me."

"Today it's appropriate. Seems I've got to go to my bloody apartment and pick up a bunch of mail." She scowled and poured another measure of whisky into her teacup.

"Aye, I need to send Binkus over to the castle and see if any's arrived for me," and with that, Walden picked up the bottle and took a drink, himself. "I should probably have some breakfast."

"Sorry, I rather started without you, I was _quite_ ravenous after last night," Hermione said. "Do you think I can convince Binkus to pick up my mail, as well?"

"Aye. I'll catch up quickly, lass, but I'd appreciate it if ye'd stay in here with me."

"I don't want to be alone right now, either...but if you don't mind, I may be a bit quiet." He reached over and touched her hand briefly. "Doona mind."

A couple of very leisurely hours later (after Walden had finished his food, Hermione Transfigured the wooden kitchen chairs into comfortable chintz armchairs), several things happened at once. Binkus arrived with 2 large packets of mail, Pigwidgeon tapped at the window, and the fire flared up, indicating an incoming call.

Walden groaned as he looked at the fireplace. "Da...could ye possibly give us a wee bit more privacy?"

"What do ye mean, 'us', son? Are ye saying what that rag printed was true?" Gavin Macnair poked his head out of the flames and glanced quickly around the kitchen, immediately spotting Hermione, who was still engrossed in a book.

"For once," Walden said. "As ye're already seein' for yerself, so if ye doona mind?"

"Bring her to the castle for supper," Gavin abruptly said, after a rather long pause. "Nae need to dress up, but put somethin' else on other than yer bed clothes, and doona let that Sassenach invite himself." Before waiting for an answer, he vanished.

"So, what time is supper?" Hermione said, as she reluctantly closed her book. "We have five hours left," Walden replied, as he stood up, stretched, and glanced at the clock ticking away on the wall, "...more generous than he usually is, but he likes ye."

"Enough time to sort through this rubbish, then," and Hermione stood up as well and started leafing through her pile of envelopes; several anonymous Howlers and suspiciously large unmarked envelopes went straight into the fire, leaving a rather small stack of mail, as well as the letter that Pig had left. "So, what did you get?"

"The usual shite," Walden grunted. "Only ones I'm gonna read are these three...one's from Rowle, another's from one of me cousins, and..." he let his voice trail off as he held up the last envelope, which was stamped all over with postmarks, the unmistakable sign of an overseas letter that had gone through the Owl Relay Service.

"You actually aren't required to tell me who's sending you mail now as I'm no longer your defence counsel," Hermione said in a slightly officious tone, to break the silence in the room as she started to open the letter from Ron.

"Am I gonna have to be yer defense from that one, though, lass?"

"I wouldn't think so." The letter merely read, " _I'm sorry, 'Mione, please forgive me! -Ron_ ". She sent it straight to the fire. "He's got plenty else to distract him."

"Aye, seems he's been messin' round with one of the Macfarlanes," Walden said, looking up from one of his letters. "Me auntie isna happy."

"Haven't read _that_ in Witch Weekly," Hermione mused. "But I did stop my subscription coming. I'll never be used to how bloody small this community is. Maybe I'll stay in Australia," and with that, she picked up the letter from the Embassy, which had been at the top of the packet. "Oh! Jolly good! I can fill out a visa application when I get there!"

"Aye, o' course. The Portkey Office arranged mine, but they made me fill out papers for five hours, and I had to get that Weasley bloke to sign them and then _he_ made me wait for another hour, the one you work with, I mean, sorry..."

"Percy," Hermione automatically interjected, as she picked up the next letter. "Oh...I didn't expect this." After reading the rather short note inside, she stared out the window at the unexciting landscape yet again, but her mind was filled with images from long-ago afternoons spent drinking tea, choking down inedible rock cakes, and trying to avoid dog slobber or dragon droppings. "I haven't even heard from him in years..."

 _Hermione,_

 _You're too smart to make this kind of mistake._

 _Your Friend, Always,_

 _Hagrid_

"Bloody hell," she said, finally. She had to leave the room, she just had to, and, dropping the letter in place, she ran from the room, not saying anything, because she didn't want Walden to see her cry.

"Lass?" he yelled after her. "Where are ye..." and then he got up and sprinted after her. "Are ye all right?" He was very fast, and caught up to her in several easy strides.

She turned, then, and paused at the foot of the stairs. "I have to go home. I'm sorry." With three very rapidly intoned spells, her beaded bag had repacked itself and appeared on her wrist, and then she turned on the spot and Apparated.

"Damn me thrice-damned life! Fuck!" Walden yelled, at the empty air and waved his wand, trying to explode something, but nothing happened; the strictures on anger management clearly extended to his magic, as well. "And damn this piece of shite stick, too!"

* * *

"So...let me get this straight," Ginny Weasley said, "Skeeter's story was actually true?"

"For once," Hermione said. "Like half of a stopped clock, or something," and she scooped more chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream out of the container and stuffed it in her mouth. "I've really missed this," she said, after she finished savoring it.

"I'm sure you have, the Ministry cafe insists on stocking the same boring flavours," Ginny said, with a smile.

"I meant talking with you, but that's true as well." She sat down the ice cream and pulled her woolen Gryffindor blanket over her feet. They were both ensconced on the overstuffed sofa in the living room that was Hermione's one concession to comfort. There was a black-and-white Muggle film playing on the telly with the sound down; they'd pretended to watch it for an hour or so before Ginny produced the ice cream, and Hermione had finally explained to her friend that she'd called her over straightaway after leaving Walden's house.

To Ginny's credit, the only startled response she made to that revelation was a slightly raised eyebrow when Hermione referred to him by his first name.

"Anyhow...yes. Walden came to my office the other evening to thank me for my services on his behalf, and we went to a Muggle pub after. He's a lot different than you would think," Hermione said. "Most of them are."

"Always figured that, seeing as how I have a little insight into how their boss operated."

"Indeed. I'm not saying that they're all shining examples of wizarding...that Avery is a perfectly wretched piece of work, as dreadful, or worse, than those Carrows, as you are very aware..."

Ginny made a face. "Yeah, they're better off in Azkaban, even if there are no more dementors to sweeten the deal. But I've talked to that Thorfinn Rowle, one time, he wasn't so bad," Ginny said. "He played Quidditch at school, you know, rather well...I'd heard the Bats had been looking at adding him to their roster, but of course he had other, er, snakes to fry. He said he regretted all that, it was really his family that talked him into it."

"When did you see him?" Hermione recalled that one of the owls Walden received that day had been from Rowle. During the trial, his assigned barrister had been Orla Quirke, thus she didn't know many details of his testimony.

"At one of the trials, we actually both ended up in line at the cafe during a recess, and he congratulated me on one of my plays from that season. It's so odd, isn't it? Seeing any of them as human."

"It took me about three bottles of whisky to get to that point...that was the part that Skeeter didn't know about, thank God...but once I got there...well..." She couldn't look at her friend, and Ginny decided to not press her for further specifics, but to keep the conversation moving along. "You were at his house? Where does he live?"

"What he calls a hunting lodge, somewhere in the Highlands-it looked like a country house to me, but I'm hardly an expert on Pureblood dwellings. He actually hasn't been living there for quite some time-he was under conditional house arrest with his parents after Azkaban. Said he hated it, said they treated him like a child, stripped him of his title and all...not that he didn't deserve it!"

"Wasn't he the one that...wait...You-Know-Who killed his wife, right? I was there during that testimony, Perce was doing it, I think you were out for some reason...anyway, it was a bit embarrassing, they had to call for a recess, because Macnair broke down in the courtroom, couldn't speak..."

"I had the flu, came back to work, Percy left me a note with a summary of the testimony, but I never read the whole thing. Said he believed Walden was genuinely repentant."

"Oh, he convinced me," Ginny said. "It was a pretty horrid story really, most of us in the room were actually feeling sorry for Macnair once it was all over. Moldyshorts killed his wife in front of him because she wouldn't...well...shag him, and then made him...well...he cast Imperius and made him go off with that rotten Lestrange woman, you know..."

"I did hear that last part," Hermione said. "Remind me to send your mum a Mother's Day card and flowers this year, again, would you?" _That was why the Dark Lord had killed Walden's wife?_ she thought. No wonder he never wanted to talk about it, and no wonder he'd never wanted to go home.

"She's rather hoping you'll come to dinner tomorrow night," Ginny said. "I promise you, my feckless brother will _not_ be there."

"Not sure if I'm ready for that, yet," Hermione said, "But would you please tell her that I'll be glad to take her up on it once I get back from Australia?"

"Oh, no worries. So, er, when are you leaving, exactly?"

"Well...er...I had rather been planning to share Walden's Portkey next week," she said, turning bright red. "But...well..."

"He's going there, too? Is he doing that emigration program? I just read about that," Ginny said.

"No, he's...well, his son is there, his second son, by the wife that You-Know-Who killed, he got sent there by Lucius...and..." Hermione was still blushing and she trailed off after admitting a further familiarity.

"Did you just say 'Lucius'-as in Malfoy?" Ginny inquired, leaving her mouth open in shock once she was done.

Hermione nodded and reached for the ice cream yet again. Before she took a bite, she mumbled. "They've been friends for years, Hagrid was right about that."

"Hermione, I have to ask you something very serious here," Ginny said, looking her straight in the eye. "Did you, well...did you actually shag either...or possibly both of them, or are you Transfiguring into a tomato for laughs?"

"I shagged Walden," Hermione said. "That night at his hotel, and then again at his house, last night and this morning, and it was pretty damn incredible. Lucius tried to have it on with us, but, er, well, his wand wouldn't cooperate."

Ginny burst into laughter, "I'm sorry...but, er...which one?"

"The wooden one," Hermione said, and she started laughing, too. "You know, they both were given those restricted ones...25 percent chance of spell failure built right in, plus a whole booklet full of proscribed spells..."

"Which rather put a damper on their...well, Harry told me about how they all used to have those sex parties...They were called Revels, or something, weren't they?"

"Yes. Well, Walden wasn't impaired at all in that way, but Lucius tried...well, he tried Devestire, and it was a pretty spectacular failure, he looked a lot like a drunk Morris dancer, so I just sent him home..."

"Really? My dad would be proud," Ginny said. "Of course I'm not going to tell him or anyone else about any of this...but..." she paused for a moment. "What was it like? Sorry! I mean, well, he is rather good-looking. Actually I've always thought they _both_ were...as well as that Rowle and a couple of the others...and you'd better keep _my_ secret, too!"

"... it was rather mind-blowing, he's massive...he did this charm that he didn't even really need...and...well, he knew exactly what to do, we didn't stop for hours...last night before he fell asleep, I think he told me that he adored me, but it was in Gaelic and I could have gotten the translation wrong..." Hermione said.

"In short, the opposite of my brother," Ginny said. " _And_ we know for a fact he's capable of serious commitment, because there is no doubt he loved his wife. Of course, there's the little problem of his former affiliation, but...well, rather sounds to me like he recanted..."

"I think he did, in the end," Hermione said. "He told me once, during one of the depositions, that he'd joined up in order to protect the wizarding world, and things got very wrong and very out of everyone's control once You-Know-Who came back. Because he, the Dark Lord, that is, had a way of reaching into their minds, as you are no doubt perfectly aware, finding out what their very darkest desires were, plucking them out and then satisfying them...and he just wasn't strong enough to resist that, Walden said. Not until he killed his wife."

"So-why did you leave, then? Why didn't you stay with him and go to Australia? At least if something happens over there, he'd be a lot better able to protect you than...well...my brother would. After all these years, don't you deserve to do something just for yourself?"

"But that's the problem, you see. No matter what I do, someone else is always involved or affected in some way. I've been in the public eye for so long that many people think that they know me. Walden even had an opinion on my relationship with Ron, and I'm not sure how that happened...Unless we both change our names or perform a lot of Memory Charms-and that would have to be me, he can't do them for at least another five years-no matter how I feel about him, we're stuck as portraits on the wall in a rogues' gallery...or as Chocolate Frog cards..."

"I know exactly what you mean," Ginny said. "I'm not sure how Harry deals with it, but you'd be amazed at the number of owls we get on a daily basis wanting advice from 'The Chosen One,' as if he's some sort of...you know...deity. He's got a form letter he sends out, it's very compassionate."

"Hagrid bloody wrote me," Hermione said, abruptly. "Said I was too smart to make this kind of mistake."

"Oh, 'Mione," Ginny said. As her friend began to cry, she hugged her. "I'm so sorry..."

* * *

At precisely 6 P.M., Walden stepped through the fireplace and emerged in the castle's dining room. His mum and da were already seated at the table, but his da stood up when he arrived, an anticipatory look on his face.

"Ye can sit down, Da, it's just me, then," Walden muttered.


	7. An Unkindness

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Again, thank you to all who have reviewed/followed/favorited so far. Please feel free to drop a review in the box at the end of this chapter. There is a lot more to come!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 7 - An Unkindness**

"What did ye do ta make her leave, son?" Gavin blurted, before Walden had even gotten a chance to sit down.

"Why do ye think I did anythin', Da?" Walden muttered, as he pulled out his chair and sat down heavily. "Oh, good evening, Mum," he added, with a nod in his mother's direction. Elspeth smiled back at him.

"She'd listened to yer testimony of that brainless shite ye pulled with that feckless Riddle for all those years, and she was sitting there with ye this mornin', so ye had to have done somethin'," Gavin mused, as he shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap.

"She got a owl from one of her friends and then Disapparated before I got the chance to say or do anythin'!" Walden picked up the wine glass next to his place setting, and Binkus immediately appeared and filled it.

"Owl was probably tellin' her to stay away from ye," Gavin needled.

"That's exactly what it was, Da, I saw it." He drained the glass and sat it back down, after which Binkus immediately filled it. "Could ye bring me some single-malt, then," he asked the elf.

"Nay, Binkus," Gavin said. "Doona bring any until after supper!"

"Och...fine, then, I'll take some mead," Walden said. "Is that all right wi' ye, Da? Should I have 'im bring it in a baby bottle?"

Before Gavin could snap out a reply, Elspeth intervened. "Who was the letter from, son?"

"It was from Hagrid. Canna say I wasna expecting somethin' like that. Er, may I be excused for a moment?"

* * *

Hermione and Ginny sat quietly for a long while after she'd blurted out the news about Hagrid, and eventually, Hermione turned up the sound on the telly, and they watched a science-fiction movie, had some popcorn, and leafed through the latest Gladrags catalog.

Eventually, as Hermione started flipping through the channels once the movie was over, Ginny spoke. "When was the last time you even heard from Hagrid? I know that you and my brother and Harry were very close with him while you were in school, and we all know he had a personal grudge against Macnair...but...well, I think he's being a little rude! He knows you were working on the trials-I mean-well, everyone knows who you were assigned to, from the Prophet...and since when does anyone really pay attention to that cow's stupid column, anyway?" and she stood up from the couch. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"I have some stuff in the fridge, get whatever you want," Hermione responded. "And I haven't seen or heard from Hagrid since his part in the trials, actually. And apparently both Ronald and Hagrid pay attention to that stupid column..."

"Much as I love my brother, no matter what, I've had a difficult time respecting any of his judgment calls for the last few years!" A short while after Ginny walked into the small kitchen area, the sound of bottles clinking echoed through the silent apartment. "Is it OK if I have butterbeer? Do you want one?"

"No, just bring me a bottle of gillywater," Hermione replied, as she continued flipping through the channels.

"Er...Hermione? There are an awful lot of birds on your window ledge, just staring in. It's kind of odd."

"What do you mean, birds? Owls, you mean? Let them in, I guess..." She didn't relish receiving any more mail that day, but there was no rule stating she needed to open every letter.

"No, they look like ravens, and there's about 15 of them, all crowded up. None of them have letters in their beaks."

Hermione waved her wand and lifted up the curtains in the living-room window. "They're in here, too, Ginny...hang on, I'm going to check my bedroom." They were in there, as well, not quite as many. The birds weren't doing anything particularly significant, other than staring at her, but it was unsettling.

"Do any of them have letters?" Hermione asked. "Doesn't look like it," Ginny answered. "I know there are other birds that deliver mail, but I'm not sure I've ever heard of ravens being used for that."

"Nor have I. I'm not that far from the Tower-which has lots of ravens, but I'm not sure why they'd be..." and she paused. "It almost reminds me of something, hang on...something having to do with Hagrid, in fact..." A gloomy afternoon during the most stressful of her teen years, the year where she'd used a Time-Turner, which stretched out the days at a punishing rate, and that had also been the year she'd started her period, it was miserable, really...and that early summer afternoon there'd been an encounter with a shape-shifting wolf, dog and rat in the Shrieking Shack...then a horrible, horrible ride with Harry on the back of a hippogriff. Hadn't there been ravens at Hagrid's hut that day, too, sitting all over the pumpkin patch? There was supposed to have been an execution, but Hagrid had seen it as a murder-she'd helped him work on his case-but that was what a group of crows was called, wasn't it, a murder? What _was_ the name for a group of ravens, anyway? She, Harry and Ron had observed their arrival in swarms while they were huddled under the Invisibility Cloak and hiding behind the garden...

"I think they're from Walden," Hermione said. "Come to think of it, he never did tell me that story about Buckbeak..."

"Well, when did he have the time to tell...er...shaggy hippogriff stories? You were either shagging him or Disapparating during your very brief time together," Ginny said.

"I mean before that, in the trials, you think he would have brought it up...I suppose it wasn't relevant..."

"Hermione! You have shite-loads of birds outside your apartment! Shouldn't you do something about them?"

"As long as they're not attacking me, which I'm pretty sure he can't do, anyway, I doubt they can get through the window...and they're not doing odd things that the Muggles might notice...Accio Restricted Wand booklet!" she said, and after the pamphlet flew into her hand she started paging through it. "Looks like Avifors isn't on the list of proscribed spells...there are such a lot of birds, though, seems as if there should only be one or two, no more than four, I'd think..."

"HERMIONE! Possibly instead of searching through your library, you could go and talk to him and find out why he's sending them."

She was still leafing through the pamphlet. "Nothing in here that says he's been blocked from doing non-combative accidental magic, though; I suppose he's not practising his anger management."

"What on earth is that?"

"It's a Muggle thing, I suggested it as a strategy to several of the Death Eaters, the ones who weren't quite as loquacious as Lucius, so they'd be able to act reasonably during their trials. Walden was the only one who actually tried it, though. Draco Malfoy laughed in my face, and Mulciber straightaway called me a Mudblood-he got sent back to Azkaban after that, which is how I ended up getting stuck with Avery on my docket, horrible man..."

"I always wondered why he was out of alphabetical order," Ginny interjected.

"Anyhow, it worked for Walden, he thanked me for it, although it apparently wasn't working during the time I was out sick." She waved her wand and sent the pamphlet flying back to her desk.

"I would imagine it's not working now!" Ginny said. "I mean, you ran out on him and didn't even say anything. Anyone would be frustrated at that, even a Death Eater...well, he's paroled, right?"

"And reformed," said Hermione. "And I did tell him I was sorry."

"Plus, his parents invited you to supper...you think Hagrid's being rude, and I say, since when do two wrongs make a right?

"Do you really think I should go back there? What if I am actually making a mistake?"

* * *

When Walden didn't come back to his place at the table after supper had been served for 10 minutes, his mum excused herself and found him, sitting on the front steps.

"Food's on the table, Walden," she quietly said.

"Nae hungry," he replied. "Sorry, mum." A soft rain began to fall. Elspeth cast a Bubble Charm around them.

"How long have ye loved her, then, son?" she asked.

"For ages now. She was...well...she was pleasant to me from the very beginnin', even though she had a right not to be, but she was always helpful, taught me this, well, this Muggle thing, to step awa' from situations so I wouldna get in a rage during the trials or say somethin' foolish like Mulciber did..." He paused. "That's why I came out here, so I wouldna get in another fight with Da. But I know I canna expect her to stay with me, we're just too different, I'm nae sure why she even, well..."

"Slept with ye in the first place?" Elspeth preferred a quiet life, but she had been a Slytherin for a very good reason.

"Aye, although I know she's lonely."

"That Weasley wasnae treating her right, everyone knows that," Elspeth said. "I wondered why me copies of Witch Weekly were always goin' missin' from the loo..."

"They're under me bed upstairs," Walden mumbled. "Sorry, mum...but she also told me, at the pub, that she had nothin' to go home to. And I know what that's like."

Elspeth took her son in her arms and didn't say anything for a while. "If she doesna go with ye to get Evan back, I'll come with ye. Now come back in and have supper, son, ye know yer Da gets impatient and we're all tired of listenin' to his blethering..."

* * *

"Look, Hermione," Ginny said, as she pulled the Gryffindor blanket off her friend. "It's time to get up and face this all head-on. I don't like what the Death Eaters did. But we all did things during the war to save the world, or for the greater good, or whatever that was Dumbledore was quoted as saying, that...well...weren't always exactly above-board. Mum still has nightmares about that Lestrange witch-she won't admit it, but she does."

"Walden didn't care for _her_ , I know that," Hermione began, as she slowly stood up, accepted the blanket from Ginny, folded it, and sent it flying back to the shelf where it usually lived.

"Of course he didn't! Hang on, you didn't actually hear that part, is that what you said?" Ginny perched on the sofa arm as she asked her question.

"I came in the day after Walden testified that the Dark Lord killed his wife, but I didn't hear why...the testimony picked up at the part when Voldemort cast Imperius on Walden straightaway after his wife was killed. He didn't even let him pick up her body and take it home like he wanted. I believe Lucius actually took care of that...I suppose I should ask him..." Hermione Summoned her beaded bag from the closet and slipped on her shoes...but then switched them to Wellies after a bit of consideration. "Anyway, he sent Walden upstairs with Lestrange and ordered him to...oh, it was horrid, 'get her ready,' but not to, er, finish things. He wouldn't even look me in the eye during that testimony; he said it went on for hours, and You-Know-Who eventually showed up and, er...well, joined in with the festivities."

"Yes, I remember all that. I think I'd probably have hoped to just hear him whisper Avada in my ear at that point," Ginny said. "Although to be fair, when he was younger, Tom Riddle was, well, he could be, I should say...rather charming." She blushed.

"Ginny!"

"Well, he was! He was very patient and understanding at first...until I didn't go along with what he wanted, and that's when it all went horribly wrong..." Ginny summoned her coat and purse from the coat rack next to the door.

"Yes, well, that was the, er, thrust of the testimony of most of the ones who got parole, or service work. Then there were the ones who were forced into it, and so on..." Hermione summoned her cloak, and started to slip it over her shoulders.

"Such as our dear ferret friend, I saw him in Diagon Alley last week, and he was almost polite!"

Hermione laughed. "Even though he didn't appreciate my advice, he was slightly gracious at the end of his part of the trials, shook my hand and everything, although I doubt he'd want to know what his father's up to now..."

"What exactly happened there, or would you rather not say?"

"Well, apparently I've been judged and found worthy of attending a Malfoy sex party," Hermione said, chuckling. "But it's witch's choice, and I haven't decided whether I want to follow through."

"I can't exactly give you advice on that...but you should follow through on, at the very least, going back up there and having a chat with Macnair," Ginny said. "Because it looks as if you're halfway to the Highlands right now-if you're waiting for my blessing, I say, do it. And I won't say a thing to my husband OR my brother, but if I don't get out of here now, my Mum is going to spoil James even more rotten than he already is..." and with those last words, she hugged her friend, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and then took two steps backward and Disapparated.


	8. Nevermore

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Again, thank you to all who have reviewed/followed/favorited so far. Don't forget to read the Author's Notes at the beginning of the story-if you are wondering what the heck is going on, they may assist.

(TL/DR version: My fancast Walden Macnair is Joe Manganiello, and NOT the various dudes from the films.)

I'm hoping to see Fantastic Beasts this upcoming weekend-definitely looking forward to it!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 8 - Nevermore**

Supper was so silent that Walden wondered if his Mum had surreptitiously cast Muffliato around his Da, but he chose not to say anything-other than polite requests to pass things-for fear of breaking the spell. Binkus brought a bottle of single-malt along with the dessert-raspberry cranachan-and Gavin said nothing as Walden tucked quickly into both.

It was only when both wizards had taken their pipes out and started to smoke that Gavin finally remarked, "Maybe it's time ye went and talked to him." Walden had actually been mulling just exactly that over in his mind, but he had a number of reservations. "Da, I canna go ta the school alone, ye know that. And I canna go to Hogsmeade, either, although that's not a rule, I just dinna think it's a good idea, I'm sure I've worn out me welcome there."

"That Sassenach was down there last week," Gavin said. "If he can go, so can ye."

"He wasna alone, though, I wager," Walden replied.

Elspeth interjected, "Nay, he was with his son and some others we didna recognize, and we didna stop ta talk wi' them, but they did come out of the Broomsticks," and at that last, she stared knowingly at her son.

Walden looked down at his empty whisky glass. "I canna go in there. And I canna go in the Hog's Head, either, I'm sure Dumbledore would toss me out. And I canna use any...well, if I do go, I have no way ta hide... " He'd read and re-read his wand booklet, and noted that many of the rules seemed rather specific to the magical specialties his former Master had so prized...Dissolution Charms were proscribed, as was the use of Polyjuice. Further, his Invisibility Cloak had been confiscated and burned by the same hated Auror who'd snapped his wand. (He'd remained silent through that procedure, as well.)

Gavin tapped his pipe on the side of the ashtray and then started to load more tobacco into it. "I guess ye're fooked, then, son, nae sure where else ye think ye'd find 'im, the Hogsmeade Menagerie just closed."

"Aye, I saw a notice in the Prophet about that."

"Master Walden?" Binkus abruptly appeared next to the table. "There's someone at the door for you!"

Gavin stood up. "Whoever it is, ye should be telling me, Binkus!" He stomped away from the high table; the elf scurried along beside him, wringing his hands. Elspeth and Walden stood up.

"I'm sure it's nothin' bad, son. Yer father will take care of it if it is."

* * *

After Ginny Disapparated, Hermione stared into the empty space left by her friend for several minutes, whilst clutching at her beaded bag. There seemed to be no reason to stay in London-she'd already made the arrangements to close up her apartment for at least two months via mail the previous week, and she knew none of her neighbors-mostly professional-class Muggles-would notice her absence. Whether or not they'd notice the ravens, though, was anybody's guess. They likely weren't specifically charmed, but every minute that she continued to not be at Walden's side seemed rather distressing, and she wasn't sure if that was due to her abrupt manner of departure-which was, in fact, quite impolite, she'd concluded-or something else entirely, something that she'd rather not cast her mind over at the moment.

She waved her wand, lowered her wards for a moment, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

Although she'd not yet visited there, she knew that Rait Castle was situated rather closely to the Muggle town of Nairn, and she wondered, as she appeared next to a blackthorn hedge, a branch of which scraped over her, if she'd made a mistake and possibly been spotted, but the area was deserted-it was a rainy winter evening, after all. A glance around the area revealed the flickering lights of a nearby farmstead, and further on, the lights of the town, which abruptly ended at the Moray Firth. She stared up at the building, which was actually a large-ish two-storey stone house, rather than a towering castle, like Hogwarts; however, like that latter building, it also appeared as a ruin to the Muggles, and was rumoured to be haunted by a gruesome, handless ghost. She'd seen the pictures on the castle's Web site, but that didn't prepare her for the rather imposing sight of a closed portcullis at the top of a long flight of stone stairs.

"Lumos Minima!" she intoned, as she started to trudge up the stairs, in order to give enough light so that she wouldn't stumble. As the hour was growing late, and it was possible that Walden had either not shown up or already departed for his lodge, she'd probably be attempting to explain her presence to either Binkus or his parents...and only the former prospect was appealing. Gavin Macnair was an imposing wizard-he'd been a Gryffindor like her, she recalled, and Elspeth, his wife, had been a Slytherin, and was related to the Macmillans, thus giving Walden his "Sacred Twenty-Eight" legitimacy...not that she cared about that last bit.

At the top of the stairs, to the immediate left of the portcullis, a small window opened, and she saw the batwing ears of a house-elf poking up over the ledge.

"Er, hello?" she said, tentatively.

"Missy! You is here to see Master Walden!" Binkus said, and she was exceedingly glad to see him.

"Yes, and would you please tell Mr. Macnair-that is, Gavin, that I'm very late, and I'm dreadfully sorry..." and her voice trailed off, as Binkus abruptly vanished, and the rain picked up. She pulled her cloak over her head and waited for what seemed like a rather long while, until the creaks and groans of chains began to sound and the portcullis slowly rose. Behind that, an imposing wooden door stood, and as she watched, it quietly swung open to reveal Binkus and a tall wizard with white hair.

Hermione stepped forward, and, recalling the many hours listening to the excruciatingly detailed Malfoy testimony, dropped a quick curtsey. "Mr. Macnair, it's a pleasure to see you again. I'm dreadfully sorry to, er, abuse your hospitality and appear on your doorstep at such a late hour; I'm certain my invitation didn't extend this far, but, you see..."

Gavin cut in and said, "I know why ye're here. Doona stand out there, lassie, it's miserable, come inside!"

"Thank you," Hermione said, as she walked into the entrance hall. It was, surprisingly, quite warm and cozy-large tapestries covered the stone walls on either side, and she really wanted to examine them in detail, but she managed to tamp down her curiosity as Gavin and Binkus led her through a doorway in the center of a ornate, crenellated wooden screen that reached very near to the hall's lofty ceiling. Through the doorway, at the other end of the hall, a high table was placed at the top of three steps...and Walden and his mum were standing next to it, in quiet conversation.

"Master Walden, see, the Missy is here for you!" Binkus said, dashing ahead of Gavin and Hermione.

"Thank ye, Binkus," Walden said, quietly. Elspeth stepped toward Hermione and took both her hands and led her to the table. "Welcome...if ye'd just sit here," and she gestured to an empty seat, and then used her wand to move it away from the table, "we'll get ye something warm to drink, and maybe something to eat?"

"I, er...I had some ice cream and a gillywater earlier," Hermione stammered. "So I'm not very, er..."

"Mulled wine," said Elspeth. "And some broth, and bread, Binkus," she added. "And my son will sit here with you," and she used her wand to pull another chair, next to the first, out. "We'll be in the library-do stop by once you're done," and with that, she led Gavin, who was staring with very Gryffindor-like curiosity at Hermione, down the stairs, toward a semi-circular side door. "And doona just stand there like a numpty, son, take her cloak!"

"Aye, may I take that, Miss Granger?" Walden muttered, not looking her in the eye.

Hermione waited until Gavin and Elspeth were safely out of earshot before replying. "So, we're back to formalities, Mr. Macnair? Of course you may take my cloak." She started to shrug it off her shoulders but he was too fast and quickly moved behind her.

"Och! This is wet and freezin!" he said, as he took the cloak, walked over, and draped it on a chair close to the enormous fireplace that loomed behind the table.

"In case you hadn't noticed, it's wet and rather cold outside," Hermione said, looking up at him. "And I'm sorry, Walden, I shouldn't have run off like that." Before he could turn away and sit down, she took his large, warm hand in hers.

He lifted her hand up and kissed it. "Sorry, but I read the letter, lass. I canna blame ye."

"He's being very rude," Hermione said. "I haven't even seen or heard from him since he was there for the trials."

"He has a right to be angry at me," Walden said, looking directly at her.

"Regardless of that, he's not my father nor is he my brother or any other relation, and he should have, at the very least, attempted to contact me before trying to interfere in my life," Hermione began, but she was interrupted in her recital by the arrival of Binkus, bearing a platter of lovely, steaming warm food and drink. Walden helped her into her chair and then sat beside her as she ate, silently staring into his glass of single-malt, watching the dancing flames as they reflected onto the cut glass, amplifying the deep, smoky amber color within.

"Oh, this _is_ marvelous," Hermione said, as she sat down her spoon. "It's warming me up all over."

"Aye, Mum charms it to do that," Walden said.

"She quite reminds me of..." and Hermione stopped. "Er...another mum I know..."

"Weasley's mum?" Walden said. "I'm actually quite grateful to her," he added.

"Likely for similar reasons," and Hermione sat down her bread. "This is all so filling, but it's so good I don't want to stop eating it."

"It's all right if you doona finish, lass."

"I suppose not, I just didn't want to be impolite, it was bad enough that I showed up after supper was done," and she put her napkin up on the table and pushed her chair back a bit, before picking up her wine glass and sipping at it.

"Ye could never be impolite," Walden said, as he turned his chair toward hers, then reached over and gently took the wineglass from her hand and set it on the table, next to his whisky. "Come over here," he said, in a low voice. "Come here and kiss me, I'll warm ye up more," and with those last words, he pulled her up on his lap and encircled her in his arms. "Ye're trembling," he murmured, next to her ear.

"I...er...did you send birds?" she asked, as he slid his hand around the back of her head, pulling her closer.

"Might have," he said, before he closed his lips over hers, and as they both sighed at the contact he deepened the kiss, gently teasing her with his tongue, and Hermione felt the world shrink until all she knew was him, and his delicious mouth, which tasted strongly of fragrant tobacco and whisky. Each kiss seemed to increase in urgency, and as their breaths hitched, he pulled back from her, murmuring, "Want to take ye to bed, _mo ghra_ , need to have ye now," and she felt his growing hardness as she shifted in his lap. "Yes," she whispered. "But, er...aren't we..."

"Och," he grunted. "Och, aye, sorry, we canna leave until we say somethin' to me parents, or Da will poke his heid in me bedroom fireplace when we're in the midst of things, he's done it before..."

"Rather awkward, I'd think," Hermione said, as she slid off his lap and stood up, her legs still trembling.

"Tried to keep him out but never found a spell that works," Walden said, as he stood up and shook out his robes. "And we, er, need to wait just a moment before we go in there." Hermione giggled as he took a deep breath and then reached for his whisky. "Will that actually help?" she asked.

"It willna hurt."

"So, about those birds..."

"Me ravens," Walden said. "Aye, they show up when I'm in need of trackin' something...and sometimes when I'm angry. They're useful, though, I can send messages with 'em, they're fast as the devil."

"So you didn't conjure them?"

"Nay, they just show up, although I can make more come out of me wand...well, nae this manky one," and he gestured at the one in his wand pocket.

"Well, there were rather a lot of them at my flat," Hermione said, "About two score...I figured it was your accidental magic...that pamphlet didn't specifically mention ravens..."

"Nice to know they let me keep somethin'," Walden said, as he picked up Hermione's cloak and offered her his arm. "Let's go be polite before I send more of 'em to the library; I doona want to upset me Mum."


	9. Eponymous

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Greetings, readers. Again, I urge you to check out the Author's Notes at the beginning of the story-if you are wondering what the heck is going on, they may assist. (TL/DR version: My fancast Walden Macnair is Joe Manganiello, and NOT the various dudes from the films.) I realize this is an unusual pairing for many of you all, and I will endeavor to keep things interesting. For Lucius fans, he will be back, never fear. This chapter, however, is a bit intense and lemony...so enjoy!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 9 - Eponymous**

 _"_ _Trust I seek and I find in you_ _  
_ _Every day for us something new_ _  
_ _Open mind for a different view_ _  
_ _And nothing else matters_ _..."_

 _Metallica "Nothing Else Matters"_

The castle's library was in a large turret room, and Hermione could tell immediately that it had been magically expanded. Elaborately carved curved bookshelves, packed with tomes, wound around the walls. In the center of the room, a grouping of large armchairs-two of which housed the Macnairs-surrounded a table piled high with books and tea things; across from the table, there was a large fireplace with a crackling fire...and hanging above it, making Hermione feel even more welcome, was a large Gryffindor tapestry. Binkus stood next to the fireplace, hanging up a tea kettle from an iron frame.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Er...can we come back here, preferably when we have more time?"

Walden chuckled. "Nae surprised that ye liked me Da's addition to the room; me parents would be glad to have ye visit whenever ye want."

Elspeth stood up and approached them, taking Hermione's hand in hers again. "You two doona need to wait around here with us, go on back to the lodge, and we'll see you tomorrow night for supper."

"Thank you for everything, Mrs. Macnair."

"And I'll keep him out of yer fireplace, son," Elspeth added. "Now go on, he's asleep, go before ye wake him up...ye'd better Disapparate from the other room just in case, or use the Floo."

Although Walden wasn't happy about it, he consented to have Hermione lower the lodge's wards and Disapparate them. "I don't trust that 25 percent failure threshold, too much of a chance of Splinching," she said, and he nodded. "I did that on me first try for a licence, left me big toe on the far side of Hogsmeade, it hurt like the dickens and I had ta wait three months to be tested again, me Da has never let me forget."

Once they appeared in the kitchen at the lodge, Hermione waved her wand to restore the wards. "And I'm going to look for a solution to your fire-call issue...but for now, we can just put the fire out up there, I can set up some Bluebell Flames..." She glanced at the table, where Hagrid's letter still sat, looking slightly crumpled. "I should get rid of this."

"I really do need to talk to him, lass, I've needed to for years...I just canna figure out how to do it, exactly."

"I suppose I need to talk to him as well." She tossed the letter into the embers and they immediately caught, obliterating the letter within seconds. "But I'd rather not think about that any more right now."

"Nor would I," and with that, Walden picked Hermione up in his arms, using very little effort, tossed her over his shoulder, slapped her on the arse in a playful manner, and dashed out of the room and up the stairs. It all happened so fast that she had no time to say anything.

An hour later, they lay together, sweaty from their exertions, the coverlet pushed down at their feet. The Bluebell Flames pulsated wildly from the top of a vase sitting on Walden's bedside table.

"Thank ye for comin' back, _mo ghra_ ," he finally said.

"I shouldn't have left," she answered, as she gently withdrew herself from his embrace, then sat up and stretched. "I should have just talked to you about it. Perhaps you're not aware...Ron, Harry and I were rather close with Hagrid while I was at school, but I haven't had much reason to speak with him during the past few years. And it was obvious from his testimony that he is still holding a substantial grudge against you...and..."

"Aye, as I said, he has a right to be angry wi' me. I've needed to talk with him for years now, but I canna go to Hogwarts." Walden sat up, withdrew his pillow, punched at it, flipped it over, and put it back under his head.

"Yes, I recall that phrase in your parole agreement; but it merely said you couldn't go there on your own-Lucius had the same stipulation in his, as well as his removal from the Board of Governors. I'll see what I can do about it when I get back to the office; however, someone could go with you-perhaps your Mum?" Hermione reached over to the table on her side of the bed, withdrew her robe from her beaded bag, and put it on. "I'm going to go to the loo and then see if I can find something to drink-would you like anything?"

"Doona worry about that, I'll get Binkus back over here. I know ye're nae fond of havin' the elves around, but we've never treated them poorly. Mum wouldna stand for it."

"I don't have a problem with them being around, it is their treatment I'm concerned with," and she paused. "Er...as long as you don't hang their heads on the wall..."

"Nay, that's a tradition of House Black, not ours, _mo chridhe_ ," Walden said. "I do have a trophy room, but I promise ye, no elves are mounted up there...I'll take ye down there and show ye later."

When she returned, Walden had donned his robe and was sitting up in the bed, having a glass of mead and reading a letter. "Got some things, a wee snack," and he gestured to a tray sitting next to the flickering jar of flames on his bedside table. "Letter from Rowle," he added, nodding his head at the parchment. "He's gone to work at Lucius' new endeavour...tryin' ta get me to help out."

"I have my doubts about that Alliance business," Hermione began, as she poured herself a glass of water from a large glass pitcher, and then drained it in one go. "It all seemed a bit too calculated and rather vague." She sat the glass down and examined the food tray, then poured another glass of water.

"Lucius wants to publish a book, have us all give interviews for it...well, the ones of us that are left, that is...nae sure I want to go through that again," Walden said, sitting both the letter and the mead down and then patting the bed next to him. "Come here, lass."

Hermione tentatively climbed back up in bed next to him. "Closer than that," he said, as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "You taste like mead," she murmured, as he lowered her to the pillows and then untied the belt on her robe. He reached over to the table and picked up the mead glass again, and smiled, as he tipped the glass over so that several golden droplets landed on her breasts and belly. "So do ye, _mo ghra_ ," he murmured, before he moved his way down her body, kissing and nipping, teasing her with his tongue. She cried out in pleasure as he reached the juncture of her thighs, nudging them apart with his hands, then he licked two of his broad fingers and slid them into her, starting a sweet, maddening rhythm, as he bent his head down and sucked at her core. At this point, she was groaning incoherently, her hands gripping his head, and after what seemed like an eternity, she shuddered and climaxed around him. He withdrew his fingers slowly, shrugged out of his robe, and rolled her over on her back. As he poised the tip of his prick at her entrance, he whispered in her ear, "Shall I do that charm again, lass, before I plow ye?" "You bloody...well...know...you don't need it..." she panted. "Och, _t_ _ha gaol agam ort_..." he murmured. "...are ye sure?" "Very...sure...please..." she panted, and he entered her in one swift stroke, filling her completely, and then rode her hard, pinning her shoulders to the bed, grunting with each thrust, and she met and matched his passion. They exploded together, and as their loud sighs and groans entwined in the air around them, their magical cores met, and the Bluebell Flames in the vase flared up until they nearly touched the ceiling. When he rolled off her, he murmured, "ye're like sweet, velvet fire around me cock, lass, ye're amazin'..." and he let his voice trail off as he crushed her in his arms and kissed her forehead.

"Is there," she began, hoarsely, and then, thinking better of it, she rolled over, sat up and reached for her glass of water. "Er, is there a chance that potion could still be working from last night?"

"Och, Lucius always said there were sometimes lingering effects," he answered, as he stretched and then sat up next to her. "Why do ye ask?"

"Because ...well. Because I've never, er...oh sod it. This is the best bloody sex I've ever had in my life, at least so far," she said. "So what's in that potion?"

He reached over and quaffed his mead, then answered, "It's a powerful, fast-acting lust potion of Lucius' own design, slightly different for witches and wizards...and there's a contraceptive in it, too. There were always additional charms in the walls at the Manor to reinforce that last bit, and...er, by the way...I noticed ye weren't wearing any jewelry..." Walden said, sounding a bit tentative. "Like, ye know, a ring or such..."

"A ring?" _Surely_ , thought Hermione, _he wasn't trying to offer her one_? He was already saying all sorts of Gaelic endearments...including that he loved her, she thought, but she had chosen to not acknowledge them as of yet.

"Me...er...me wife wore one. It must be a Yank thing, ye know, for..."

"For birth control, yes," Hermione finished. "I've read about those, never seen one, they _are_ mostly used in America and Canada. For that, I do a six-month potion at St. Mungo's, not that I've...er, really needed it until now, I started it when, er...when McLaggen was..."

"Sniffin' round ye?" Walden said, smiling. "Ye do like yer Quidditch players, lass. Ye know I played at school, used to play at the Ministry, too."

"What did you play?" she asked, before realizing there were only two logical choices. "No, wait. Either Keeper or Beater, Cormac was large like you, and he was a Keeper...and Viktor always said that he was taller than most Seekers..."

"I was a Beater on me House team and at the Ministry, and McLaggen is a _gorach_ git."

"He is rather witless," Hermione mused.

"Ye understand the Gaelic?" Walden asked, incredulously.

"A bit here and there, I took a course a couple of years ago, for fun." She stood up and retrieved her robe from where it had fallen off the end of the bed, donned it, and slowly walked over to Walden's side of the bed and examined the food tray again, before picking up a piece of shortbread and munching on it. "I have a hard time with the pronunciation myself, all those extra letters."

"So ye know what I've been sayin' to ye," he said, slowly, as he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up next to Hermione.

"Yes, well...some of it." She finished the shortbread and reached for a bunch of grapes, but his hand intercepted hers. "I mean it, ye know," and he gently tugged her so she was facing him, and he gripped her hands tightly and spoke in a low voice, "I've loved ye for years, I'm sorry, I canna help it...me heart was broken and closed up after...well, after he killed her, and I thought about killin' meself, even bought the potion for it down Knockturn. But er...Avery said he needed some and I sold it to him. Then I was going to ask Lucius to do the Avada, and he refused. So, I was actually hopin' that I'd nae recover from being thrown against that wall, Hagrid had done me a huge favour. But when I woke up from that I was in Azkaban and, ye know, there were nae more dementors, so it wasna easy to just give up and die."

"You...you never said that in your testimony," Hermione stammered.

"I wasna going to say I loved ye in front of those Ministry dobbers, they'd just find a way ta use it against me, and it just happened one day, I came in for one of th' interviews we did, and I knew, I was holding ye in my heart. Told ye I had lots of practice keepin' things to meself." He paused. "Ye doona have to love me back, ye know. I know we're too different, and I doona expect it...but I would like it if ye would come with me to bring me son home."

"Yes," Hermione said, as she looked into his bright blue eyes. "I'm sorry, I should have said before. I will go with you."


	10. Brotherhood

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Greetings and many thanks to all...especially my faithful reviewers! Sorry for the short hiatus, but the Day Job intervened just after Thanksgiving. I promise there is much more in store for you all, and possibly some surprises.

(Thank you to the lovely ladies of the Death Eater Express FB group, most especially for introducing me to a certain Viking! My fancast for Thorfinn is a slightly blonder Rusty Coones from Sons of Anarchy, BTW.)

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 10 - Brotherhood  
**

 _"There's a black bird perched outside my window  
I hear him calling  
I hear him sing  
He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers  
He sees all my sins  
He reads my soul..."_

 _"Come Join the Murder," The Forest Rangers_

"I thank ye, lass," Walden said. "Ye remember that me Portkey's set for next week, aye?"

"I remember," Hermione replied. "I was rather hoping to stay here until then, if that's all right with you?"

"More than all right," he murmured, as he reached for his robe, donned it, and headed off to the loo. When he returned, Hermione was already under the covers. The Bluebell Flames had receded to a dim flicker, but they were enough for him to find his way...and the flames gradually increased as they spent the rest of the night in each other's arms.

* * *

Hermione woke up slowly the next day, slightly less disoriented, but with an overwhelming feeling of urgency, before she realized that, despite its being Monday, and rather later than she would normally wake up, she had no need to rush off to the Ministry or anywhere else. She stretched luxuriously, while attempting to recall the last time she'd had any time off work, or even time to herself, other than very brief evenings or weekends...and most of those, during the last few years, had been filled with take-home assignments.

So her time had not been her own since summers off from school, then, and of course, the last one of those had been rather rudely interrupted by You-Know-Who. She'd chosen to return to Hogwarts for a rather condensed seventh year, along with a handful of her classmates; Harry and Ron had headed straight for Auror training, thus beginning the splintering of the so-called Golden Trio...and her and Ron's relationship, although she didn't realize that straight off, of course. He'd not begun morphing into his current role as the notorious playboy until the year he'd left the Aurors for a job alongside George at the joke shop, though. It had all started innocently enough-Hermione had started her MLE legal training, and she, Ron and Harry were invited to every social event the wizarding world had to offer, even the occasional soiree at Malfoy Manor. She always had to beg off due to her extreme workload, and when Ron got tired of being the odd man out alongside Harry and Ginny, he'd started asking Luna as his date...which had ended when she abruptly took off on safari with Rolf Scamander. After that was when it had all gone wrong. Hermione recalled the numerous _Witch Weekly_ stories-she'd taken to hitting her copies with Incendio the minute they were delivered. And shortly after that, she became immersed in the dark world of the Death Eater trials...which were at long last over. _I still seem to have take-home assignments_ , _though_ , she thought to herself, as she glanced over at Walden, who was stirring slowly awake.

"Seems odd not to have to go to work," she said, by way of a morning greeting.

"Glad I doona have to do chores nae more," Walden grunted, as he reached over and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Didna care for it."

"Chores?" she asked.

"When I was on house arrest..." Walden replied, as he withdrew from her, stretched and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Me Da gave me chores ta do, every day. Only got out of them when I went ta the Ministry for the interviews and the trials."

"You said they treated you like a child, but you never told me what that entailed," she said, as she followed his lead, standing up and retrieving her robe from where it hung on the outside of Walden's wardrobe.

"Didna tell anyone," he muttered, as he tied the belt around his robe. "Er...sorry, me lass, but, I forgot to tell ye about the letter I got yesterday...er...Rowle is visiting today, with Lucius..." he picked up his pocket watch from the bedside table. "...looks like they'll be here in about an hour, ye doona have to, er..."

"Visit with them? Lucius doesn't have something planned like he did the other night, does he?" Her mind flashed to the conversation she'd had with Ginny. All she could recall about Rowle at that moment was that Harry had told her he'd set Hagrid's hut on fire the night Dumbledore had been killed, which normally wouldn't have been a good recommendation.

Walden laughed. "Not at this hour, but ye never know with him, best we both get dressed quickly."

"Considering the other evening, we should be quite safe," Hermione giggled as she Summoned her beaded bag. "Mind if I hang some things up in that spare wardrobe?" She walked over to it and opened the door. It was full of what appeared to be witches' clothes, shoes, and a suitcase. "Oh..." her voice drifted off.

"Och, shite," Walden growled. "Thought he cleaned those out...fuck..." He walked over and stood next to Hermione, then reached out and lifted up the sleeve of a rather fancy purple robe. "This is the one I bought her in Salem..." and the words hung in the air between them.

"Er...I'm sorry," Hermione began, "Shall I-I could..."

"Please, lass," he said. "Ye can put them in one of the spare rooms, I'll ask the elves to show ye where," and he dropped the sleeve and snapped his finger. "I need ta...I'll get a bath ready..." he slowly backed away from the wardrobe.

Hermione waved her wand and efficiently shrunk the clothes and shoes into a small pile, then opened the suitcase. Inside, she noted that there was a rather similar pile of clothes and shoes, as well as a small bundle that pulsated with magic. Figuring it was absolutely none of her business, she moved the pile she'd shrunk into the suitcase and handed it to Binkus, instructing him to store it in a spare bedroom. She then withdrew some clothes and shoes from her beaded bag and hung them up.

As she glanced out of the window, en route to the bath, she was not in the least surprised to see five ravens lined up, staring in at her.

* * *

"My dear Hermione!" Lucius exclaimed, as he exited the kitchen fireplace. "You're looking quite well, this bracing...Highland air is clearly working wonders for you."

"Why, thank you, Lucius," she said, with a smirk. "Walden will be down shortly-if you would step through to the dining room...and Mr. Rowle, how nice to see you again," she added, as the large wizard stepped into the kitchen behind Lucius. "Miss Granger," he muttered, giving her a short bow before brushing copious amounts of ash off his robes and out of his long blond hair, which was tied back in a neat queue.

She followed both of them in and took a seat at the opposite end of the table from where the two wizards arranged themselves. Binkus bustled in and handed round tea and scones to all, and for a few minutes, silence, punctuated by the soft sounds of tea stirring, reigned. Lucius, unsurprisingly, was the one to speak up first. "I'm not sure how much you know about the Alliance, my dear," he said, looking directly at Hermione. If Rowle was surprised at the familiar form of address, he didn't let it slip.

"Only what I've heard in testimony," she replied.

"Well, it is a way for myself and my former associates to give back to the community that was so sundered by the actions of the Pretender," he began, and then took a deep breath, which suggested this was just the beginning of a rather lengthy speech.

"Ye mean it's a way for ye to regain all the respect ye _think_ ye once had," Walden interjected, as he strode into the room and took his place at the head of the table, nodding at Rowle along the way. "And I've told ye. I'm nae interested in givin' more interviews, I'm done with that, it's all on record at the Ministry...and by the way, laddie, ye didna close this house up as well as ye told me ye did!"

Lucius raised his eyebrows just a bit; he clearly didn't appreciate being interrupted, but he also felt the need to preserve the peace, so he merely replied, "I hardly had a chance to check over my work that night, I thought it was far more important to get Evan away to safety. And if you don't mind, brother, I'd prefer to discuss that in private."

There was another long silence after Lucius' words, which Rowle surprisingly broke. "So, Miss Granger, are you here to provide us with the benefit of your legal expertise..." He paused, and smirked at her, obviously anticipating her answer, as she was neither dressed in Ministry robes nor encumbered by paper or quill, "...or is Skeeter's column actually true for once?"

"That wretched column is on a semi-permanent hiatus, Thorfinn," Lucius interjected.

"Thought so," Rowle said, as he picked up a scone and devoured it in one bite. "Well done then, Walden, my barrister was rather pleasant but certainly not in this one's league," and he gave a polite nod to Hermione, who instantly blushed and grabbed her teacup for something to do, as she wondered exactly who had _not_ read Rita Skeeter.

"Leave the lass alone, Thorfinn, or ye can leave after ye're done demolishing me breakfast table," Walden growled.

"Hardly much here to demolish, brother, mind if I get some more of these scones and possibly some bacon and eggs?" Rowle said, sounding rather offhand. Hermione glanced at him and realized he was actually slightly larger than Walden.

"Ye didna say ye were comin' here expecting ta be wined and dined, _hurdie_ , just ta bore me with more talk of that Alliance, which I'm nae joining, so ye may as well go now then," and with that, Walden stood up and strode toward the door. "I'll be right back," he muttered.

"Now, now, Walden," Lucius said, standing up as well. "There's no need to throw anyone out, I asked Thorfinn to announce our visit well in advance, so we couldn't possibly have interrupted anything. We shall finish our discussion when you return, and in the meantime I'll have my elves bring some food from the Manor." He turned to Rowle and Hermione, who were glancing at each other curiously. "If you two would excuse me?"

"Never properly told you thanks for being there with me for that, er, wand business," Rowle said, after several minutes during which he'd devoured the rest of the pile of scones.

"Oh, er, you're welcome, Mr. Rowle," Hermione said. "Nobody much enjoyed that procedure."

"Fucking Dawlish enjoyed it," he snapped. "Arsehole." Dawlish, after his many misadventures during the years of Voldemort's return, was somehow still working as an Auror. Hermione recalled Ron telling her that he was a "completely humourless git," partially responsible for Ron's job dissatisfaction.

"He wasn't being very professional," Hermione replied. "He Incendio'd Walden's wand, and he wasn't supposed to." she added.

"Did he really? I suppose I should consider myself lucky, then," Rowle said. "Although I do find myself wishing that my last name was a bit earlier in the alphabet...not too early, though, mind you," and he winked at Hermione.

Without thinking about it too much, she said, "You would have only needed to move up two spots on the rota, and I would have preferred you to Avery."

"Everyone prefers me to Avery," and he smiled. "Hope he's cleaning loads of bedpans...probably enjoys that, though..."

Hermione shuddered. "I'd rather not think about that."

"Sorry. Do you think Lucius is coming back soon? I didn't have breakfast," and he glanced toward the doorway. "So, are you going to Australia with Walden, then? Lucius mentioned we had to have this meeting before he left."

"I'm sharing his Portkey," Hermione said, as she picked up her tea cup. "But I'm going there on my own errand."

"Oh?" Rowle said, politely as he scraped up the scone crumbs from his plate on the edge of his knife. "Ministry business?"

"No, personal business, I need to...er, retrieve my parents."

"Retrieve them?" After Rowle had licked all the crumbs from the knife, he looked around again. Hermione thought she heard his stomach growling.

"I gave them Memory Charms, you see, convinced them they needed to move to Brisbane, to keep them well away from...er..."

"Myself, my former colleagues and the Pretender," Rowle finished. "Sorry. There _was_ some discussion of them at one point, as I recall. They're Muggles, aren't they?" He picked up the knife and started cleaning his nails with it, and Hermione realised that he'd been in Azkaban until quite recently.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, coldly.

"Was never much of a problem with me," he said. "Most of the Knights had a Muggle or two back in the woodpile, but it was best to never mention that sort of thing to the true believers, like Mulciber or the Carrows. I was in it for the power, Miss Granger, that's pretty much the size of it."

She'd heard much the same thing from Orla Quirke, her colleague, so she simply nodded and said, "Very well, that's more or less what most of the others said, including Lucius."

"Not that he had much left once everything was said and done," Rowle added. "Bloody hell, er...could you call Walden's elf? I wouldn't mind more tea if nobody's going to bring round more food."

Hermione stood up. "I'll go see what's taking so long."

"Nae need, lass," Walden said, as he re-entered the dining room, followed by Binkus and two of the Malfoy elves, all of whom were balancing multiple platters of food. "And Thorfinn, ye knobdobber, whatever ye were saying to the lass, shut it!"

"I was being perfectly polite, Walden," Rowle protested. "And thanks for the food...laddie," he added, in a fairly dreadful parody of a Scots accent.

"Get it up ye, Thorfinn, most of this is from Lucius, I doona want ta go hungry the rest o' this week after ye've raided me cupboards."

"I think you'll find these provisions to your liking," Lucius added, as he slowly sauntered into the room and redeposited himself in his appointed chair. "We're all aware of how meagre the rations were in Azkaban."

Rowle nodded; he was already halfway through his first plateful.

"May I offer you some repast, my dear?" Lucius said, passing one of the platters to Hermione.

"Thank you," she said, as she filled her plate with eggs and a rasher of bacon.

"Now then," Lucius began, after a pause during which the quartet made variously-sized dents in their food. "Walden has just agreed to join the Alliance, on a limited basis, starting when he returns from Australia with the delightful Miss Granger..."

"Lucius," Walden interjected. "I told ye, I'm going for me son, the lass is just sharin' me Portkey..."

"Very well, then, when he returns from Australia with his dear son, Evan," Lucius edited. Nobody at the table was quite sure to whom Lucius was making his speech-the two former Death Eaters, though, were obviously used to his behavior, and Hermione just nodded politely. Clearing his throat, Lucius continued. "So, we'll be starting the interviews in February, with an eye to getting the book released somewhere around the beginning of May."

Hermione interjected, "How very seasonally appropriate." Both Walden and Rowle snorted, and Rowle added, "Planning on holding a Revel for it? Why wait, we can start _that_ today!"

"Really, brothers," Lucius said. "I was merely taking advantage of the yearly cycles to ensure the success of this endeavour. How typical of you both to reduce this down to its basest element before we've even had our coffee or brandy...although, now that I think of it..."

"Nay, Lucius," Walden said. "I drank all yer potion the other night, anyway."

"Oh, I'm sure our dear Hermione is well up to the task of making more," Lucius said. "My dear, since you aren't departing for several days, it seems that time _does_ permit, does it not?"


	11. Trophies

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thanks to all reviewers, as always. More to come, more surprises and some silliness in store, as well as some hurt/comfort. Please feel free to drop a review in the box at the end of this chapter...and on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 11 - Trophies  
**

"Time may permit such, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione neatly riposted, "But the issue of my willingness and choice still remains."

"Indeed it does, my dear," Lucius replied, as he lifted his hand up and swept it around in a gesture including himself and the two other wizards. "Will you have us, then?"

"I believe that the last time you asked me, this table wasn't quite so...er...populated," and after that, she began pushing the remains of her bacon around with her fork. It wasn't that the thought of Rowle was all that horrible, but he was so large and (despite his restricted wand status) still rather intimidating.

"Miss Granger, much as I'm flattered," Rowle said, correctly gauging her sudden embarrassment, "And despite my mention of a Revel, I'm afraid that I'd have to sit this one out no matter what."

"Ye never sat a Revel out in me memory," Walden blurted.

"True, but I also never spent this much time in Azkaban before, Walden," Rowle replied. His lips were set in a thin line.

"My dear Thorfinn," Lucius said, "One would think that would have quite the opposite effect." He delicately blotted his lips with a napkin.

"One would think," Rowle said, and he paused to take another bite off his third plateful. "But it appears our new regime, while overly concerned with prisoners' comfort, is of the opinion that Death Eaters shagging each other in the showers is unsavoury. So we were all given long-term potions to prevent such things. And mine hasn't worn off yet."

There was a very long pause after his statement, but it didn't seem to faze him, as he finished his third plate and started heaping up a fourth. Lucius had sat his napkin down and was closely examining the decimated platter of eggs. Hermione glanced at Walden, who was bright red and staring into his teacup. She had to do something, so she fell back into her comfortable academic persona. "Er...Lucius, wouldn't your potion counteract that one, though?"

"Er, I'm not exactly sure," Lucius said, in an atypically quiet voice.

"Pardon me," Walden said, as he slowly stood up from the table, pushed his chair in, and nearly ran out of the room.

"I, er, I'll go check on him," Lucius muttered, as he got up and departed.

"Mr. Rowle, do you have the slightest idea what that was all about...wait..." Hermione sat her fork down. "They were in Azkaban together before, when the dementors guarded it. When did this potion business begin? I seem to remember getting a memo about it at some point..."

"All of us who were captured and imprisoned after the Battle of Hogwarts were given it, but those two," and he gestured at the door, "both went to house arrest rather quickly..."

"Yes, I know about that-"

"And we were administered the potion every month," Rowle finished. "But it was a new experimental program, we were told at first."

"So...er...they didn't get it before."

"Well, they didn't get the potion before, no," Rowle said, winking at her before picking up his teacup and drinking it in one go.

"Oh," Hermione said, as she automatically waved her wand at the pot to pour fresh cups for both of them. "Well then."

"Well then indeed," Rowle said. "Do you think they're coming back soon? We're out of bacon."

A few minutes later, both wizards returned and sat back down. Binkus followed closely behind them bearing a fresh platter of bacon, which Rowle devoured. There was no further mention of an imminent Revel, nor any conversation at all. When Rowle finally pushed his plate away and stood up, Lucius stood up alongside him, and after perfunctory farewell greetings, both headed away toward the kitchen fireplace.

Hermione stood up and followed behind, and took Lucius' arm before he stepped onto the hearth.

"Send your Patronus in a couple of days-you do have one, yes?"

"Of course I have one," Lucius replied.

"Well, send me it in a couple of days. I believe I would like to try my hand at brewing that potion."

"Certainly, my dear. I look forward to it," and he lifted up her hand and kissed it, before tossing his Floo powder into the flames. "Malfoy Manor study!"

When Hermione returned to the dining room, it was empty, save for bustling house-elves.

"Binkus?" she inquired.

"Yes, Missy?" he replied, as he balanced a stack of empty plates in the air.

"Where might Walden have gone, do you know?"

"He is heading downstairs when I sees him, Missy."

Hermione realized that she hadn't been given a tour as yet, but she recalled that Walden had mentioned a trophy room downstairs, so after Binkus pointed her in the proper direction, she walked slowly down a flight of stone steps. There was an iron-reinforced wooden door, which was ajar, at the foot of the staircase. It was a bit chilly and very silent, and she instinctively clutched her wand as she walked through the doorway.

Inside was a rather large room with stone floors, mostly underground with slit-like windows near its ceiling. A large stone fireplace surrounded by empty bookshelves dominated the room; there were two shroud-covered chairs and what appeared to be a shrouded table between them, as well as two other large shrouded furniture items, possibly tables. A rolled-up rug stood sentry in the corner. Along the dark wooden walls, shrouded portraits and what appeared to be trophy heads added to the general creepiness of the atmosphere. Four doors led off the main room. One of them was ajar.

"Hello?" she called out, tentatively. Nobody answered. "Walden?" she said, this time, a bit louder, but to no avail. She walked closer to the open door. "Are you down here?" She reached up and tapped lightly on the door. Familiar as they were to each other, she still felt the need to preserve a bit of privacy. The door swung open to reveal Walden, his face still a little red, and his hair slightly rumpled, as if he'd been running his hands through it.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "Can I, er...I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you...I'll just, er, I'll just go back upstairs, if you don't mind." She stumbled over her words and started backing out of the doorway.

"Nay, stay here," he said, quietly. He'd been sitting at a chair in front of a small desk-she glimpsed the discarded, crumpled shrouds on the floor. A candle flickered weakly on the desk; next to it, there was a stack of framed pictures, most face down, covering the remainder of the surface. He pointed to the chair and asked, "Will ye make another one, lass?" She pointed her wand at it and muttered an incantation, and another, slightly smaller, chair appeared. Once they'd both sat down, chairs facing one another, he took her hands in his.

"This was me office...I used to bring work home when I was at the Ministry...I worked there thirteen years, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

She knew all his background information, of course, but she didn't see the point of interrupting, and nodded for him to continue.

"I was the best at what I did, I was appointed for the job after I slew a dragon-the trophy is up on the wall in there..." and he inclined his head toward the main room. "It's why I got the tattoo..." He gestured toward his upper left arm, where Hermione had noticed a rather detailed dragon was inscribed. "I loved me job, not many can say that. I didna really need to do it, I could have stayed home and helped me Da oversee the village, but it was exciting, lots of travel, and I did make a fair bit of Galleons for it. Went to America a few times, went all over Europe...gave a talk at Durmstrang, even..." he paused for a long while. "I miss that life. When I was back at the Ministry for the trials I saw some of me old colleagues. Me assistant, Burton, he's Chief Executioner now..." He let his voice trail off and relinquished Hermione's hands, and began rummaging through the picture frames until he found one, nodding, and handed it to her. It showed Walden and another wizard, standing tall in what she recognized as official Ministry robes, both holding axes.

"I've seen him round the Ministry," Hermione said. "Never knew that's what he did, though."

"He sent me an owl last month," Walden said. "He's doing those werewolf executions, Greyback and them, asked me for advice. Nae sure that's the way that should be handled but he doesna have much of a choice."

"I most certainly don't think that werewolves should be handled by that Department, and I did say something to Percy about it," Hermione said, "But nothing ever came of my complaint."

"Aye, too much anti-werewolf feeling about, that's nae going away for a while, the Pretender didn't help that cause."

"I would think not...but I knew a werewolf, he was one of my professors at school, he took the Wolfsbane Potion, and..."

"It's partially effective," Walden finished. "But hard to brew, and the ingredients arenae cheap. Greyback always said he'd never fucking drink that shite, that's probably why Burton's taking care of 'im." For a brief minute, Hermione had almost felt as if she was conferring with one of her Ministry colleagues, until she realized, with a jolt, exactly how Walden would know the werewolf's rather colorful thoughts on the matter.

"Plus he did kill one of my...well, school friends," Hermione added. It was difficult for her to find the proper word to describe Lavender Brown. They had most definitely _not_ been friends during her sixth year at school, but the intervening years had mellowed those emotions, and given the choice, she would have preferred Lavender to end up with Ron rather than the current, lurid alternatives.

"Aye, he wanted ye, too, he told me that once," Walden grimaced.

"I did know that."

"Must have told ye when he captured ye," Walden said. "He was punished after that, I'm sure ye know, all of them were, Lucius and the others and...her," and at this last thought, he grimaced again.

"It took me years to get rid of the scar she left-finally found a salve that removed it...down Knockturn." Hermione deliberately did not look at him as she said this.

Walden pulled his left robe sleeve up. "Think that might take care of this one?" She had, of course, seen the scarred remains of Walden's Dark Mark before, as well as the ones on all her clients. Draco's, unsurprisingly, seemed to be the most well-healed. Walden's was still outlined by a very thin red line.

"I actually...er, I do have it with me. And I think at least one of your, er, former colleagues has used it for that." Hermione shivered a bit. The Dark Arts apothecary, one of the last shops remaining on Knockturn, had been fairly horrible. She'd actually found out about it during a lunchtime conversation with Orla Quirke, who'd gotten the information from her client, Rookwood. A few days later, she'd done a series of disguising charms on herself and purchased the salve. Within a month, the hated scar had vanished.

"I'm sorry, lass, it is a bit cold down here...we can...er, wanted to show ye the trophies but that can wait..." Walden said, looking at her. "I...well, I should probably tell ye why I ran off."

"I, er..." Hermione paused, and then waved her wand, performing a Warming Charm. "There. I'd be glad to assist if you wanted to give me the tour..."

"When we were in Azkaban," Walden abruptly said. "That is, after that time at the Ministry. Ye remember."

"I do," she said.

"It was for a year. No trial, we were just chucked straight in, I expected that. My Ministry supervisor visited me there to tell me I'd been removed from me appointed post, and me Da visited me and stripped me title. This all happened after he'd killed her, so I'd nae been back here for months. Me eye was healin', it took a long while for that..." and he paused. "Never really been the same since then. The dementors did leave not long after we got there, not that I could have done me Patronus without a wand, but it didna matter, even when they left I still kept reliving the Revel when he killed her over and over again, all day, every day, and all through the night."

He paused for a while and Hermione decided to gently interrupt, because although she knew most of this already, he'd mentioned something about which she was quite curious.

"You have a Patronus?"

"Aye, it's a thestral," Walden said. "I can produce it again, the spell's nae listed in that wee book."

"Oh, I suppose I'd thought..." she let her voice drift off, not wanting to state that she'd heard that as a rule, Death Eaters and Patronuses did not ever mix. "Lucius mentioned he had one as well."

"We were in prison together, ye know, Lucius and I, and it was verra bad for us both-he actually wanted to stay, because he knew, we all knew, really...that once he did get out he'd be punished for his failure, and as ye know that did happen, all of us got punished...but while we were there together we, er, Lucius and I, we took solace from each other. It was the only thing that ever allowed me to get rest that year...I hope ye willna think badly of me for it."

"I've...er...I've read about such things," Hermione said, tentatively.

"It's why I've been tryin' to stop him from doin' a Revel. Rather glad Rowle said that."

"I told him to contact us in a couple of days. I would actually like to learn to brew that potion..."

"O' course ye would, lass, he figured ye wouldna be able ta resist a challenge," and Walden smiled a very little bit.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, I know that Death Eaters are not supposed to be able to produce Patronuses (in canon, confirmed by JKR); however, as the organization is now dissolved and both Lucius and Walden have shown themselves capable of remorse and love (in my headcanon), I chose to give them this ability. As for how Walden was able to call dementors in POA-I believe that since LV hadn't returned yet, he was able to produce one then (and he actually can in the Lego HP game!)


	12. The Light Brigade

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

This chapter is for all you Lucius fans...enjoy!

The room in which the three take tea is based on the First Class Reading and Writing Room on the RMS Titanic, and the library is similar to the University of Coimbra General Library in Portugal. Prior to the films, I always pictured Malfoy Manor as looking like a somewhat smaller version of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building in Washington, DC, but Hardwick Hall was chosen, so I'll defer to film canon on that. The Green Velvet Room at that residence features later in the chapter.

As for Walden's lodge, Google "Giraffe Manor, the Most Magical Place on Earth." It's a building in Nairobi that was modeled after a Scottish hunting lodge, and it's the closest to what I've pictured for...way too long now! (Just the exterior, not the interior.)

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**

 **Chapter 12 - The Light Brigade  
**

During the next three days, neither Hermione nor Walden chose to return to the previous topic of discussion-instead, she assisted him with re-configuring and airing out the trophy room (although she found the various heads mounted on the walls rather discomfiting), the downstairs guest bedroom, and Evan's bedroom. Other than that, they played a few rounds of chess, ate leisurely meals, took a couple of brisk walks outdoors, but most notably spent a great amount of time in Walden's bed. Some of that time was spent in companionable silence-Hermione had unpacked several cartons of books and was currently in the midst of reading a treatise on magical creatures that was neither hairy nor required a belt to strap it closed.

Walden told her that during his prolonged house arrest at the castle, his father had woken him up each day at five a.m. with "a horrible hidden device that made a great clattering racket," which she suspected was a cursed Muggle alarm clock, so by mutual agreement, the pair began having lie-ins rather than waking with the sunrise.

On the third morning, they enjoyed tea and scones in the kitchen-they'd settled into somewhat of a pleasant routine. Hermione's mail and her copy of the Prophet (still Skeeter-free) were delivered regularly by Binkus. She looked up from the crossword, which they had been working together, and spied a glowing white peacock dashing across the yard toward the kitchen window. Walden followed her gaze and glanced up.

"Lucius," he muttered, disappointedly.

The Patronus jumped in through the window, shook itself, displayed its plumage, then spoke in Lucius' voice. "My dear Hermione, I've assembled all the ingredients. The potion takes one hour to brew and two to mature. If you and Walden would arrive here at 3 PM, we'll have tea when you're done."

She glanced inquiringly at Walden, who gave a short, sharp nod.

She held her wand to her throat, said, "We shall see you then," and then pointed her wand toward the window. The shining otter gamboled away toward the tree line.

* * *

Although Hermione had been invited to numerous post-war parties at Malfoy Manor, due to her Golden Trio credentials, she'd always politely and not-so-regretfully declined. She'd not precisely stopped to consider exactly why she was continuing on her current course, but Walden's company had been, so far, surprisingly pleasant, and she found Lucius to be amusing and intellectually stimulating. His house was an entirely other matter, however. She (as well as anyone who'd stayed awake during Malfoy's trial) was aware that he'd made a number of modifications to the Manor after Voldemort's demise, but she'd never wanted to personally inspect them. During one of her many hurried lunches with Harry at the Ministry, he'd told her some specifics-the dungeons had been filled in and sealed off magically, as had at least two of the rooms, the dining and drawing room. The latter, of course, was where she'd been tortured at the hand of Bellatrix, and heard Greyback's unsettling whispers in her ear.

"It must have taken him forever with that wand of his," she mused aloud. Lucius had been the first enthusiastic beneficiary of the Monitored Wand Program, given that he'd been wandless for the last year of the war.

"What did ye say, lass?" Walden asked. They were standing in front of the Manor gates-although she knew they were no longer a deterrent, it was nevertheless still considered a breach of wizarding etiquette to Apparate directly into a home, and she'd not wanted to use the Floo Network in order to give herself time to acclimate herself to visiting a place fraught with such personal horrors.

"Sorry...all those, er, renovations he did," she clarified.

"It took most o' three years, but it's not like he had anythin' else ta do. Narcissa and Draco helped him with it as well. And I helped him the week he was doin' the dungeons...o'course, me Da was there also, complained the whole time, I was still under house arrest. Was sort of sorry to see some of the rooms down there go away..." and his voice drifted off.

"Those trysting rooms?" she asked.

"Aye, not that anyone had good memories of them left after it was all said and done," he murmured, as he looked up at the face that had materialized in the centre of the wrought iron gates. "Walden Macnair and Hermione Granger to see Lucius Malfoy, scion of the House of Malfoy and master of this Manor," he stated, in a rather sarcastic tone, whilst rolling his eyes at Hermione.

Hermione smirked as the gates swung slowly open. "He's definitely not lost his taste for grandeur," she said, glancing at the hedges and the pristine white gravel that crackled under their feet. "Nay, doubt he ever will, he was even pompous when we were in prison together," Walden replied. As that was the first time he'd brought up the subject since his confession the other evening, Hermione chose to simply nod and smile at him.

The Manor rose out of the surrounding countryside at the end of the lane. It fairly shimmered with magic, and Hermione was reminded of the numerous fairy tales she'd read in her youth. A large fountain glistened in front of the entrance area. The door was already open, and Lucius was there, leaning faux-casually against the door.

"Greetings, dear friends," he called out. "Come along, come along, everything's all set up to go." The excitement in his voice was overriding his normal luxurious drawl; Hermione almost expected him to do a somersault and jump up to greet them like Willy Wonka.

Under the guise of holding on to Walden's arm while he assisted her up the steps, she whispered in his ear, "Did he act like this at all those Revels?"

He turned to her and nodded. "Aye, he was like a lad at Honeydukes every time, ye'd think he never got properly fooked in his life."

"Now, now, brother," Lucius said. "No point in spoiling _all_ the surprises I have planned for today, let our dear Hermione experience them for herself!" He led them through the door and down a long parquet hallway lined with ancestral portraits. Walden squeezed her hand as they walked through a set of double doors into one of the largest private libraries that Hermione had ever seen. She was unable to hold back a covetous, sighing "Oh..." at the sight of carved wooden bookshelves stretching up to the ceiling. Next to a mullioned window, an elaborate potions worktable had been set up. Lucius led Hermione there and said, "We will be back for you in an hour, my dear, do enjoy!"

It turned out that the potion was rather fiddly and required a number of ingredients that surprised Hermione; nonetheless, she finished her task in less than the allotted time, so that when he and Walden returned to the room, she had already decanted it into four sparkling cut-glass bottles, and was seated in a leather armchair, engrossed in the pages of An Advanced Treatise on Transfiguration.

"Come along for tea, my dear," he said. "You most certainly may borrow that, and you are invited to return here any time you wish."

"I do believe I'll take you up on that, thank you," Hermione said, as she tapped the book with her wand and stashed it away in her robe pocket.

Tea was served in a airy, comfortable room, which Lucius explained had originally been the Reading and Writing Room, but had been pressed into service after the renovations to become the main Drawing Room. The trio lingered through multiple refills, discussing neutral subjects such as Quidditch-Hermione snickered when Lucius revealed himself to be a fan of the Chudley Cannons-and magical creatures. Walden, with rather a lot of interruption from Lucius, told his side of the story of the failed execution of Buckbeak. The two wizards disagreed violently about Hagrid, until Hermione politely asked if they could change topics. All in all, though, it was a rather pleasant way to spend an afternoon, and by the time a soft chime sounded, indicating that the potions were ready to drink, she'd almost forgotten why she'd come there in the first place.

Lucius, on the other hand, embodied the very opposite of well-mannered frivolity as he leapt from his chair and scrambled toward the library to retrieve the potions with a perfunctory "Pardon-be right back, friends!"

"Thought he'd never leave," said Walden. "Are ye sure about all this, lass?"

"Yes. If I had wanted to avoid it, I could have come up with a suitably impressive excuse, such as my regularly scheduled monthly dinner with Kingsley," she said, smiling at him.

"Do ye actually...er...do that?" Walden looked somewhat alarmed by this prospect.

"Not currently, but nothing forges a lifelong friendship like riding together on the back of a thestral," Hermione said.

At that moment Lucius skidded back into the room, slightly out of breath, clutching the potion bottles. "Everything appears to be ready, shall we drink up and then head upstairs?"

"Would you prefer that I Apparate us?" Hermione said, after she stood up and accepted her bottle, uncorked it and drank it. Walden stood up beside her and quickly quaffed his two bottles.

"Too many wards," Lucius said. "Let's just stretch our legs a bit and walk up, shall we?" They proceeded up several flights of marble stairs to a third-floor suite at the top of one of the Manor's symmetrical towers. The room was large, with tapestries covering the walls-an enormous wooden four-poster bed with green velvet hangings dominated the space. The floor was covered in rush mats, at which Hermione was determinedly staring. Lucius had already strode through the room and opened the double doors to the en-suite bath and was waving his wand in the direction of a large, round marble tub.

"Well, half a league onward," muttered Hermione, as she approached the bath; she was already feeling a bit heated. Behind he, Walden was silent, but his looming presence was overwhelming. At last the trio stood in a semi-circle, facing the tub, which by now was half-way filled with steaming, scented bubbles.

After a long silence, during which none of them were precisely looking at each other, Hermione spoke up. "Er, I think it's probably best if I do this next bit," and although her only real-world experience with the spell had been Lucius' failed attempt, she withdrew her wand, swung it around the group, and focused, very clearly, on the single word, "Devestire." She noted for future reference that the spell removed everyone's robes and then created three neatly folded stacks of clothing in the corner of the room with each person's wand on the top...Mrs. Weasley would have loved the idea of it, if not its intended purpose.

"You are as every bit exquisite as I'd thought you'd be, my dear," Lucius said, picking up her left hand, bowing to her, and kissing it. Walden had moved so he was standing very closely behind her, and he slid his large hands down over her shoulders, then kissed her neck. " _Mo ghra_ ," he murmured. "I canna wait, let's get in there," and he picked her up, nearly effortlessly, and sat her down in the tub, before stepping in himself and sitting very closely next to her.

"Walden, you can't have her all to yourself right now, we did discuss this, brother," Lucius said, as he stepped in and sat down on the other side of Hermione. He was of rather medium build, compared to Walden, but she could not help noticing that he was fairly well-endowed and partially erect. Before too long, Walden lifted her up again and impaled her on his thick cock, as Lucius protested. "You were _supposed_ to wait to do that!" He washed Hermione's back with a large washcloth saturated with sandalwood soap in a desultory manner, while sighing loudly in frustration. "Said I couldna wait, and I meant to fuck," Walden grunted in reply. Meanwhile, Hermione's mind swirled thickly around a single imperative and she writhed around him, sighing in pleasure as his hands spread her apart and he began thrusting wildly, as tidal waves surged through the bubble-filled water and splashed merrily over the tiles. "Oh, for _Merlin's_ sake," Lucius whined, and from the noises he began making after that, she assumed he'd given up on the washcloth and taken himself in hand...and after several intense minutes, all three of them reached their orgasms together. Lucius panted wildly and as she felt his hot come splatter on her back, she thought that she'd possibly ask him to wash it again...and that was when she started hearing the rhythmic sound of bells, very quiet at first, but becoming more insistent as the minutes passed. Walden was still grunting, holding her tightly, as the tremors surged through him, muttering Gaelic endearments to her, she was part of his soul, his life, his everything...

The bells' melody was familiar, and she turned to Lucius, who was slumped on the side of the tub looking thoroughly disappointed, his hair and body slick with soap, and she asked, "Is that _La Marseillaise_?"

"Very nice accent, my dear...oh SHITE, oh BLOODY HELL!" At that last part of the sentence, Lucius had abruptly stood up in the bath, slipping a bit. "Get up, friends, we've got to get downstairs as soon as we can! It's Revestire, by the way, if you've never done..." but Hermione was way ahead of him, having Summoned her wand the minute he'd started shouting, and before long, the three were dry, warm and dressed in their robes once again. Two last wand waves transformed Hermione's casual robe into a close facsimile of her normal work-day suit and then drained the tub.

She turned to Lucius and asked, "Lower the wards on the room where we had tea, please, I'll set up in there."

"Lucius, ye dobber, mind lettin' me in on what's going on?" Walden said, as he shook his head to get water out of his ear. He still looked a bit disheveled and slightly punch-drunk. Hermione passed her wand over him to straighten up his hair and mustache, before swinging the wand over her own hair, pinning it in a neat, professional updo.

"That alarm is the one for my _bloody_ parole officer, who is permitted by Magical Law to show up whenever he _bloody_ wants for an inspection," Lucius said. "If you'd hold both our hands, my dear," he asked. "Can't afford any mistakes this time." The trio then turned on the spot and reappeared in the ad hoc meeting room. On a magically-enlarged table, Hermione created a stack of books and papers and several quills in a little cup, while the elves appeared, bearing another tea tray. Lucius dashed away to the front door, and Walden started to sit down next to Hermione.

"Er, you'd better sit over there, across from me, sorry," she said, looking quite sheepish, as Walden silently complied. He'd just reached for a cup of tea when Lucius returned to the room. Both Walden and Hermione stood up and observed the three uniformed Aurors who entered behind him.

The first of them immediately grinned widely. "Hello, Hermione, how are you doing today?" Harry Potter said. "I didn't expect to see you here!"


	13. Inklings

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thanks to all reviewers, especially cochran4444. I have meant to make more frequent updates, but the Day Job has indeed intervened. And it's sadly true, I don't make a cent from fanfiction. I do have some non-fanfic published works, but they've not permitted me to retire...yet! As for the potion, it depends on the dose and the size of the person-it will work for about five hours on Hermione, although there are lingering effects, as noted in a previous chapter. Therefore, the ensuing conversation will be...interesting.

On with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 13 - Inklings**

"I'm doing quite well, Harry, thank you!" Hermione said, with a weak smile, and really, only Walden-who was watching her rather closely-noted that she was not quite as composed as normal...her voice was a bit shaky and she was gripping rather tightly to the edge of the table.

"Great!" Harry said, in a voice that, Hermione noted, sounded rather forced, but she wrote it off to the formality and awkwardness of the situation. "Mr. Malfoy here and my colleagues will be meeting for a short while, and then taking a brief tour of the Manor," and he gestured to the other two Aurors, Proudfoot and Corner. "After that, Mr. Macnair, I'll be meeting with you-you've been, er, reassigned to me, and as long as you're here, if you don't mind, I'll do your report as well. I've already stopped in and spoken with your father so there's no need for the residential tour today."

"When was Mr. Macnair reassigned to you, Harry? I didn't get a memo on that," Hermione said, as she gripped the table even tighter.

"This week-I did send a memo to your office, but from what I understand, you're on leave?"

"That's correct. I'm here assisting my former clients with their interviews for the Alliance for Magical Unity on a pro-bono basis," Hermione said, as she sat down. "Mr. Macnair and I were, um, just getting started, actually."

"Well, as long as you've got him here," Harry said, with a very odd look at both of them, "I'll go ahead and meet with Mr. Macnair, then. Michael, Benedict...if you'd do the tour with Mr. Malfoy, please?" The two Aurors and Lucius walked from the room, and Lucius began speaking in a noticeably unctuous tone. Hermione repressed the urge to giggle.

"So, er, Mr. Macnair," Harry began. "Although Miss Granger is no longer your official counsel, you may request to have her stay here in the room with you...er, with us...during this interview."

"Aye, I'd prefer that, Mr. Potter," Walden said, as Harry sat down next to Hermione.

"Very well, let's begin, then. Dawlish gave me some notes, and I did glance through them-you were on house arrest with your parents, Gavin and Elspeth Macnair, and you're still maintaining a residence there, correct?"

"Aye," Walden said, as he looked down at the table. Hermione noted that, although he was nominally quite composed, he was gripping the table just a bit as well.

"You've got a Portkey set up to go to Australia, to locate your son, Evan, and all that's in order...and so, it looks you're going to work for the Alliance for Magical Unity?"

"Aye, Mr. Potter, I've thought _long_ and _hard_ about it, and I'm _verra_ passionate about the cause o' magical... _unity_ ," Walden said, a slight growl in his voice.

Hermione had to reach for tea and a biscuit so that she wouldn't completely lose her composure. _I wonder if there's any way I can politely excuse myself_ , she thought, and then decided that would be even more suspicious, so she tried to regulate her breathing. Thankfully, Harry wasn't paying much attention to her.

"Um, that's, er, very good to hear, Mr. Macnair," Harry finally said, after a long, slightly awkward pause. "Can you tell me about what you'll be...er...specifically doing?"

"The main _thrust_ of the organization is ta create a _fertile_ environment for the flowering and growth of the wizarding world...ta help rebuild from the ashes, ye know," Walden continued. "I'm startin' off slowly with these interviews, gettin' worked up for the main event..." _If he's going to keep this up_ , Hermione thought, _we may as well just shag in the middle of the tea table and have done_. He'd told her that the potion didn't force lust-that wasn't Lucius' style-it simply focused the drinkers' attention on sex and then amplified the pleasure when a connection (or connections) occurred, and allowed for wizards to keep going as long as they wished without the usual constraints...it had been something like eight times in a row when they'd taken the potion before, she recalled, and each time had been more intense than the last...the very last time, in fact, he'd bent her over the sink after she'd gone into the bathroom to splash some water on her face...she'd glanced at their reflection in the mirror and it had been quite overwhelming-his muscular, tattooed arms enveloped her, and his broad hands cupped her breasts...and in time with his agonizingly slow thrusts, he'd been pinching ever-so-softly at her...

"Uh, Hermione?" Harry asked. "These interviews are to what purpose, can you confirm?"

"Er...a book, to be entitled _Inside the Dark Arts_ , featuring exclusive interviews with a number of former Death Eaters," she hastily stated, looking into her tea. The leaves swirled around in a pattern, headed for the bottom of the cup, and she was reminded of the completely pointless Divination class...not that anyone, least of all Trelawney, could have predicted where she'd be sitting today. "It's all Mr. Malfoy's idea, both that and the Alliance," she added. "He wishes to give back to the wizarding community-the idea is that he and the others will, er, make themselves available for lectures and talks..." She wasn't entirely sure if that was precisely what was going on-Lucius had been maddeningly vague-but it sounded good enough. Harry was making notations using one of her charmed quills, nodding at her to continue. "Er, lectures and talks, to be given at Hogwarts and any other educational institution that requests them." She went out on a limb with her next statement, but it sounded legitimate enough. "From what I understand, Durmstrang Academy has already expressed interest, as well as, er, Ilvermorny, in the United States." She knew very little about the latter school. Walden had told her that although his wife had been a teacher, she'd been employed at the decidedly down-market Salem Witches' Institute, which was a college of further education for witches, mostly Muggle-born and of closer to university age. As for Durmstrang, despite her innocent dalliance with Viktor, she knew close to nothing about the place...and as she continued to think about him, her mind was filled with the rather improbable image of her sandwiched between Walden and the Bulgarian Seeker, all of them sighing with pleasure. She hastily sipped at her tea to cover her growing embarrassment, and reached for another biscuit. As she did, she felt Walden's foot nudging at hers, and as she quickly glanced up at him, he winked at her.

"Very good," said Harry, who, by now, had to be either completely oblivious to the undercurrents or pretending. "So, er, Mr. Macnair, what are your thoughts on the Restricted Wand Program?"

"Me wand's been workin' _verra_ well recently," Walden said. _It certainly has,_ thought Hermione. "Do ye need to see it?"

"No, you're not due for monitoring until after your return Portkey. I think I've probably got everything I need from you for right now-just make sure you check in with me straightaway when you get back from Australia," Harry said, and then he reached over for a cup of tea. "Hermione, mind if I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Walden stood up from the table and said, "I'll clear out and be back in a bit," and he nodded at both of them. _I bet he's going off to have a wank_ , Hermione thought, and the mental image that thought produced made her blush uncontrollably...considering that he had done exactly that in front of her the previous evening, at her request. Luckily, Harry had stood up and walked around the table to shake Walden's hand, telling him that he appreciated his cooperation, so he didn't notice. Hermione took this opportunity to surreptitiously flick her wand over herself to get rid of her blush and calm herself down. It only partially worked.

Once Walden had departed, Harry waved his wand in the air and cast Muffliato, then turned to Hermione and looked her straight in the eye. "What the hell is going on, Hermione? I've been hearing some, er, rather odd things. Ginny said she dropped by your apartment a few days ago, but she changed the subject when I asked her what you'd talked about. And Ron came by last night."

"What do you mean, what's going on? I'm taking time off to go find my parents, we've been talking about it for months! I've never taken a vacation, not once since I started with MLE...which you also know, considering you've been advising me to take one for years now. And since when do you want to hear witches' gossip?"

"I mean what's going on here with you and...these two!" Harry waved his wand round the room, clearly referring to the two absent, former Death Eaters. A few stray red sparks shot out of the end of it.

"Exactly what I just said! Mr. Macnair approached me the other evening, he's been a bit reluctant to join the Alliance, and I advised him it was his best course of action. I told him I'd assist with the interviews, and thus, here I am. I certainly wasn't going to have them come to my flat," she added, although of course she had invited Walden there.

"But...look at my notes, Hermione...don't you think he sounded a bit, well, randy..."long and hard," er..."passionate,"..."thrust"?

"Harry!" she said, in a scolding voice, as she poured them both a cup of tea. "Really! You sound worse than Ron... _he's_ the one who's shagging everything that moves!"

"I know," said Harry, "He's being a git, I had to tell him to shut it with his rubbish...but, er, I did see that column in the Prophet..."

"You can't tell me after everything we've been through together that you actually believe a word that woman says," Hermione said, as she passed the tray of biscuits to Harry, who enthusiastically grabbed a handful. "I just told you. Mr. Macnair came by my office the other evening. He was very thankful for the work I did for him and...er, asked for my advice. If you must know, we had a discussion at a Muggle pub, which was at my recommendation, because if we'd gone to the Cauldron, we'd never have had a minute to ourselves. We ran into Percy in the lift on the way out of the Ministry, by the way, it wasn't as if we were sneaking round. Skeeter made it sound a lot worse than it was." _Every good lie contains an element of truth_ , Hermione thought, feeling rather Slytherin about the whole thing.

"Oh," Harry said. "But Ron said you sent him a Howler-"

"Only after he sent _me_ one first, and Hagrid wrote me as well. Neither one of them has bothered to contact me in months other than that...if you must know, that's some of what Ginny and I were discussing-"

"Couldn't you at least give Ron a chance?"

"Absolutely not, after the way he's behaved! He was foul enough to bring one of those wretched witches with him to Easter dinner, or have you forgotten that?"

"I agree he's been horrid but that doesn't mean you should be hanging round dodgy Death Eaters!" Harry shouted. "Macnair looked like he wanted to shag you! You should cancel the interviews and head back with us!"

 _Too late, Harry_ , Hermione thought. "Back to the Ministry? I told you, I'm on leave right now, and I can take care of myself-if either one of them does something the least bit inappropriate, I don't even need to call you here, I can send the both of them straight to Azkaban, and they know that!"

"You sound as if you've forgotten what these wizards are capable of! I was the one who got Macnair reassigned from Dawlish. I don't trust him!"

"Who, Dawlish? He's an arsehole. He did Incendio on Walden's old wand when he wasn't supposed to, I was there!"

"I mean Macnair!" Harry shouted, as he sat down his tea cup. "I'm sure I told you before that he was the one who nearly strangled me at the Department of Mysteries!"

"Yes, somewhere we never should have been in the first bloody place," Hermione crossed her arms. "And I'm sure you've quite recovered from _that_ by now, while I'm the one who has a permanent purple reminder of that night, courtesy of Antonin Bloody Dolohov, so you have a lot of nerve saying I've forgotten what Death Eaters are capable of!" _Of_ _course_ , she thought, _I've certainly been getting quite an education here lately..._

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd gotten rid of that along with the one from..."

"The one from that disgusting Lestrange woman, the one that was put on me right across the hall over there? No, the scar from Dolohov didn't respond to the salve. I'm stuck with it." Hermione said. "Now is there anything else you want to ask about?"

There was a long pause, during which both Harry and Hermione refilled their tea cups and got more biscuits.

"I, er, I guess not," Harry said. "Sorry."

Hermione glanced up at the door. Lucius, Walden and the two Aurors were heading back in. "Better take that spell down."

After the Aurors finally departed, Hermione, Lucius and Walden sat around the tea table for a brief moment. Lucius sipped tea quietly, while Hermione Vanished the books, parchment and quills she'd created. "You know, you really should have been a bit more circumspect, Walden," she began. "Harry grilled me about both of you and threatened to take me back to the Ministry with him."

"Sorry, lass, I couldna. If I'd had to sit there a minute longer I would have fucked ye on the table. Let's go upstairs before me bollocks explode."

"You didn't go, er, take care of things just now?"

"Aye, I did, but I'd rather take care of ye," and he stood up, walked over to her, then bent down and picked her up. "And ye'd better let Lucius join us or he'll start whingin' again."

"I do _not_ whinge," Lucius said, as he stood up and took Hermione's outstretched hand.

* * *

Harry Potter landed on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place much later that evening; the countless reports he had to file as a result of the parolee interviews, as well as an impromptu meeting with Kingsley had prolonged his working hours. He'd begged off a pub visit with Corner and Proudfoot, intent on sitting in the kitchen for a few peaceful hours with Ginny.

It wasn't until the couple were getting into bed that he was reminded of something. "She called him by his first name, and defended him," Harry muttered.

"I'm sorry, what?" Ginny asked.

"Never mind. Guess it was nothing."


	14. The Odd Uneven Time

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thank you to all who reviewed and enjoyed the last chapter. Things are about to get a bit more...shall we say...angsty in this installment. On with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 14 - The Odd Uneven Time**

"Aye, brother, ye _do_ whinge," Walden said, as he dashed up the stairs with very little effort. From over his shoulder, Hermione looked down at Lucius, who was puffing a bit, attempting to keep up. "I agree," she added.

Once they all reached Lucius' suite yet again, and Walden had set her down, Hermione closed the door behind them. "I'm going to do the wards this time. Are you expecting any other visitors?"

"None that I can think of," Lucius said, as he moved over in the direction of his wardrobe, unbuttoning his outer robe all the while.

"You'd better call your elves to make sure they don't intrude," she said, as she pulled out her wand.

"Yes, yes-" he began, as he headed toward the door.

"And owls, they don't come up here, do they?"

"Certainly not," he said, as he opened the door slightly. "They deliver only to the drawing room, as is proper!" He snapped his fingers-the elves appeared and stood before him, waiting for instruction.

"How about this fireplace," Hermione said, gesturing in its direction as she continued to pace the room, her wand held high in the air. "Is it connected to the Floo Network?" "No!" he snapped, and turned toward the elves, muttering something which Hermione fervently hoped was polite.

"It doesn't look as if you have any portraits in here," she continued. The windows were already covered with thick, heavy green velvet curtains, which she warded, just in case. "Do these tapestries, er, do anything?"

"They hang there and ornament the walls," Lucius said. He'd stripped out of his two robes and tossed them on a chair, and was preparing to step out of his trousers.

"Ye doona need to be snippy, lad," Walden said. He'd already undressed and was stretched out on the bed. "But the both of ye need ta get over here before too long," he added.

"If those bells ring again," Hermione began, as she waved her wand and performed a silent Devestire, "It had better be a bona-fide emergency." Before she was able to approach Walden, Lucius intercepted her. "I don't care if the bloody Dark Lord comes crawling out of the loo! You're _not_ going over there yet!" He grabbed her and pulled her into a firm embrace...and his kisses were smoother and richer than the velvet hangings on the bed toward which he was currently nudging her. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Walden, who was intently watching, his hand fisted around his empurpled cock. Soon, she was on the bed between them...and they spent the rest of that afternoon in rapturous pleasure. She learned Slytherin's special charm, plus a host of others...they'd decided that it was best, for monitoring purposes, to have Hermione perform all the spells. By the time they rested-as Hermione's head was pillowed on Walden's chest, and her feet were being expertly massaged by Lucius-she concluded that it had really been worth the wait, and she wondered if she'd be able to talk them into possibly taking more potion that evening.

* * *

It turned out that they were very easily persuaded, and thus Thursday and early Friday passed in a haze of endorphins, rich food and sensuality. By the time Walden and Hermione headed over to his parents' for supper, they were exhausted as well as completely debauched.

"Before we go in there," Walden began, as he ran his hands through his hair, "Ye should know that me Da doesna care for Lucius-he always refers to him as the Sassenach, and he doesna want to hear him mentioned, ever." They were standing on the top of the steps at Rait Castle-the portcullis hadn't opened yet. Walden had explained that they could have used the Floo, but he preferred to wait a bit before confronting his father. It was, of course, cold and rainy, so Hermione shivered in her cloak.

"Foreigner, isn't that what that means? I thought it had to do with Saxons."

"Aye, it does, it really just means English, now, and it's nae always verra nice, nae as bad as, er, ye know, that word for Muggleborn, but when me Da says it, it's close enough ta being a curse, because, well, he knows what happened in Azkaban." Walden's lips were in a thin line after he made that utterance. Hermione chose not to remark upon it, because, of course, during the last day or so, she'd gotten rather a few glimpses of what Walden and Lucius had been to each other...not that it bothered her.

"So we'll just say that we've been having a rather nice time together and leave it at that," Hermione said. "Er, do we need to call Binkus? I'm a little cold," she added.

"Och! I'm sorry," he said, pulling the cloak off his shoulders and draping it around hers, before waving his wand toward the portcullis, which obligingly began raising. As they waited, he enclosed her in his arms from behind. Gavin was waiting for them in the doorway, a rather large smile on his face when he saw how they were standing together. "Welcome, lass!" he said. "Son, it's awful out here, why didna ye just Floo over?"

"Needed some fresh air," Walden muttered, as he led Hermione toward the table.

Supper was a rather informal affair-Walden and his father discussed Quidditch, and Hermione fielded Elspeth's questions about her parents. When the two wizards pulled out their pipes, and coffee and pudding were served, Gavin spoke up, peering curiously at both of them.

"That Potter lad came by the other day for yer parole meeting," he finally said. "Told him ye still lived here. Thought ye had that other Auror, Dawlish, in charge of ye?"

"I did," Walden said. "Got transferred to Potter, doona know why."

 _Pretty sure I have a clue_ , Hermione thought, as she stirred sugar into her coffee. "Dawlish is fairly unpleasant," she said. "There have been complaints."

"Potter was all right," Gavin said. "He seemed satisfied with what I told him-I said I thought ye were down in London, didna want to disturb ye two," and he winked at Hermione. "Showed him yer room upstairs, served him some tea and he left."

"He was verra polite," Elspeth confirmed.

"He always has been," Hermione said. Desperate to change the subject, she said, "So, er, Walden, I forgot to tell you, I need to go to, er, Diagon Alley tomorrow to pick up some things for the trip...er, can I get you anything?" She actually needed to go to St. Mungo's to take her monthly contraceptive potion, but certainly wasn't going to mention that in front of his parents.

"Nay, I'm good," Walden said, as he puffed on his pipe. "As long as ye're at the Portkey Office on Monday at 9," and he chuckled.

"Why don't ye come back here while she's out tomorrow, son?" Elspeth said. "We want to talk to ye about how things are going to go once Evan and Heather are back."

"Ye can say any of that in front of the lass, Mum," Walden replied. "She's already helped me air out Evan's room and set it up. We also fixed up a guest room, because in her last owl, Heather said she and Melissa were plannin' to live at the lodge for right now. I was hopin' ye'd set up me room over here for Evan when he visits."

"Of course, son," Elspeth said.

"Doona see why they canna all live here," Gavin said. "I'd be glad to make room for 'em."

"Because he wants to spend some time with his children without us in the way, husband," Elspeth said. "He hasna seen them in ten years!"

Hermione watched the interplay between the Macnairs silently, feeling rather like an interloper, as if she'd climbed over a fence to view an exclusive tennis match. It was obvious that the time she'd been spending with Walden was essentially a holiday, and the end was looming. Would he even want her to come back to his lodge once his son and his daughter and her girlfriend had all returned? How would he explain her presence to any of them? What was she to him, really? He'd said he loved her and continued to say it every day, whenever they kissed and especially when they were intimate...the last time, he'd said it in English, in front of Lucius, who had discreetly looked away and pretended he hadn't heard. He never expected a reply and she wasn't sure what she'd say if he waited for one. She most certainly had fond feelings for him. He was everything she'd thought she always wanted in a romantic partner, despite the overwhelmingly negative burden of his past...but, she hadn't bothered to tell one of her oldest and dearest friends about their relationship-she'd flat-out, uncharacteristically, lied about it, and she'd planned to continue lying if Harry asked her. Hopefully, Ginny would preserve her secret. Clearly, Walden's parents had figured out her desire for secrecy right away, as had Walden and Lucius.

And, of course, speaking of parents, there was the matter of hers, currently known as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. She'd located them straight away on the Internet and used Google Earth to view their house (which was very pleasant). Attempting to explain all that to Walden had been a miserable failure; he'd thrown his hands up, made a face, and said, "I know the Muggles carry around wee boxes...nay, never mind, doona try to explain any more ta me, never took that class...no Slytherins ever do, ye know!" She'd finally just said she'd need to reverse a charm once she got there. Walden had then confirmed the disturbing information that Rowle had earlier imparted to her, that the Death Eaters had planned to try and locate her parents, and Dolohov had been the one assigned to that. She'd shuddered. _"He's an odd one,"_ Walden had added, with a grimace. _"Was next to him in Azkaban. He liked to watch..."_ and he let his voice drift off, raising his eyebrow a slight bit, before finishing with, _"Er, he's back there now, I heard."_

That was actually the last thought she'd given to her parents, just before she and Walden had left for Malfoy Manor. How would they react when she spoke to them? She'd been planning to lift the enchantment before she even knocked on their door, so that they'd know her, but how to explain exactly why she'd left them in Australia even after the war had ended? She recalled speaking to Kingsley about it; he'd recommended that course of action due to the possible chance of retaliation from rogue bands of Death Eaters or sympathisers...and then the years full of work had intervened. Sometimes entire months had passed when she'd not thought of anything other than the trials and the paperwork and the mindless bits of telly she'd managed to watch in her nearly non-existent free time.

In the meantime, they apparently had a rather rich and full life in Brisbane, including part-time work at a charity dental practice. Would they even want to return to the UK? And once she did talk to them-if Walden happened to be with her-how would she explain him? Her parents had known about Voldemort and his supporters, so if the subject came up in conversation, there was no way they could avoid...

"Hermione, lass?" Walden was saying, and apparently had said more than once. "Er, shall we head home?" He was standing up, both their cloaks in his hands. The table was clear, and his parents had already left. _He called it home_ , she thought. Of course, it _was_ his home. But it wasn't hers. Her barren flat hardly rated the name. Did she even really have a place she could call home? Once upon a time, she'd felt comfortable at the Burrow, but that was long past.

Later, as they lay together in bed, he said, "After dinner, lass, ye were sittin' next to us but ye were a million miles away, I could tell."

"I was...well, I was thinking about, er...my parents, and if they're likely to come back with me...and, er, what I'm supposed to say to them about...um, about a lot of things..." and she hated herself for it but she blushed.

He turned to her. "About me, ye mean."

There was simply no point in lying to Walden. They'd seen each other in their most vulnerable states. "Yes."

"I know they're Muggles, what do they know about, well, about our world?" Although she'd heard him repeatedly state that he was reformed with regard to his political views, she was nevertheless still pleased to hear him include her as part of the magical community in casual conversation.

"I told them a lot. They've seen it, too. Professor McGonagall brought my Hogwarts letter and spoke to them. They've been to Diagon Alley and to Platform 9 and 3/4. They've met Harry and all the Weasleys. And Lucius saw them once at Flourish and Blotts, but, of course, he didn't exactly speak to them..."

"Did ye tell them before ye bewitched them and sent them away, about what was going on then?"

"They knew things were getting dangerous." Her father had actually likened the situation to the troubles in Northern Ireland, which, she thought, had been a rather apt analogy. That had been part of the very last conversation she'd had with them, come to think of it. "I showed them a copy of the Daily Prophet and told them about Dumbledore." That had been the point at which her father had gotten rather upset and had also been the night when she'd started formulating her plan for getting them away to safety.

"So if I met them, they would know what I used ta be," Walden said.

"Well...we hadn't gotten round to talking about this, but I hadn't thought you'd want to meet them-I mean, I suppose I figured once we got to Melbourne, and I went with you to find your son, then, I'd just be going off to Brisbane to see about Mum and Dad and, er, that would be, that would be it." "It" being, of course, the end of her vacation from her job and most likely the end of her relationship...or whatever it was...with Walden.

"If that's what ye want, lass," Walden said, and he abruptly got out of bed and put on his lounging robe. "Gonna go to the loo and then get a snack," he added, but he didn't smile and he didn't look back at her as he exited the room.


	15. Diagonally

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Again, many thanks to all reviewers. I realize that I left things in a *very* bad spot. There is much more to come, I promise!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 15 - Diagonally**

Hermione woke early the next morning, despite her best efforts to sleep in, feeling as if it underscored the impending changes. As she slipped out from under the covers, crept over to the curtains and peered out, she noted it was actually clear and slightly sunny.

She also noted that Walden's side of the bed did not appear to have been further slept in after his hasty departure.

After a relaxing bath, she dressed quickly and then glanced around the room. She'd hung up a few items in the wardrobe that had belonged to his wife, and put a couple of essential personal care items next to the bathroom sink; in short, she'd treated the place much like a hotel room. Retrieving her beaded bag and wand from the bedside table, she Summoned all her belongings and stashed them away.

Rather than Disapparating, she walked slowly down the upstairs hallway, taking an inventory of the rooms. There were two guest rooms with a bath between them; they'd aired out the one furthest from Walden's room for his daughter's use. Next was Evan's room...which was rather bright and cheery and featured a hand-painted mural of a dragon on the wall. There was a powder room and a small sitting room with empty bookshelves; they'd opened those two rooms last, figuring that Heather and Melissa would want to use them as well.

The entrance hallway was very quiet and still as Hermione descended the stairs. All the portraits and tables had been uncovered, but the place still felt relatively deserted. She turned the corner and walked past the dining room-which was empty-to the kitchen. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. A long bar of sunlight bisected the table, on which two copies of the Prophet rested. Next to the second copy, there was a small stack of mail; most of it was the usual-anonymous letters from witches and wizards who really needed to find better things to do with their lives. She sent all these straight to the fireplace with a casual flick of her wand. The last letter-really, a folded note-was from Ginny.

 _Hermione,_

 _We're going to Diagon Alley today around 3, for shopping and maybe supper at the Leaky Cauldron (Mum's had James for the weekend, so no diaper duty!), want to come with? Send your Patronus in either case-meet us at WWW!_

 _Much love,_

 _Ginny_

She held her wand to her throat and intoned "See you at 3," then flicked it out toward the window. The shining otter seemed to savor the sunlight as it scampered away.

Binkus came in a few minutes later and served her a cup of tea and some toast in uncharacteristic silence before vanishing. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she realized she had quite a few hours until she needed to leave for her appointment at St. Mungo's, so she read through the Prophet; it was, unfortunately, a very slow news day. When Miranda returned from a hunting expedition, she posted a letter to Grimmauld Place, asking if Ginny would watch over her owl while she was in Australia (and of course, hold her mail), then shrunk down Miranda's cage and stashed it in her bag.

The lodge remained silent around her.

After a rather frustrating further half-hour of perusing every last bit of print in the Prophet (even the ads for cleaning potions), Hermione stood up and Disapparated to the trophy room. It, too, was silent. She glanced in the downstairs guestroom-the bed was untouched. Walden's office and weapons room were similarly empty.

He was clearly not at all pleased with what she'd said to him the previous evening, and while she was appreciative that he was continuing to practise anger management techniques, she would have at least liked a chance to explain.

"Oh well," she said, aloud, for no particular reason. "I suppose this simplifies things considerably." Holding up her wand, she Disapparated to Carnaby Street. The resort ready-to-wear fashion was out and she needed to pick up a few items of Muggle wear, just in case.

* * *

"See here, brother," Lucius said. "Just because you no longer have your Cloak and your wand is restricted doesn't mean you can't find other ways to disguise yourself...be creative!"

"I was plannin' to shave me head and put a Stasis charm on it," Walden grunted. "Tired of all this grey in me hair and I'm nae usin' haircolour potion." He punctuated this last statement with a very pointed look at Lucius.

"I do _not_ use haircolour potion," Lucius replied. "Regardless of that rubbish Rowle was always putting round. And why not grow your goatee back, I always thought that looked good on you," he added, as he set down his teacup.

"Aye," Walden said. "Er, can ye assist, I doona want this done halfway," and he raised his wand to his head.

"Or quarter-way, for that matter," Lucius said, "That would look extremely silly." He stood up and extended his hand to his friend. "I don't wish to rush you, but I have some investors coming by shortly and you probably want to get back."

* * *

Five stuffed carrier bags later, Hermione's ready Muggle cash was sufficiently depleted, and she Disapparated from the alley behind Dahlia straight to Purge and Dowse, the false front to St. Mungo's. There was a queue on the Third Floor for the monthly potion, as there always was-she chose to sit in the waiting area, but did not flip through the worn, aged copies of Witch Weekly, choosing instead to continue reading the tome on Transfiguration she'd borrowed from Lucius.

By the time she'd quaffed the potion it was nearly time to meet her friends, so she used the newly-built portal entrance directly to the Leaky Cauldron. She passed through quickly with a polite wave to Hannah Abbott.

Diagon Alley had enjoyed a renaissance over the past ten years. Many of the classic stores remained, but there were a host of new ones, catering directly to the younger wizarding generation, as well as several new eateries (including the very tasty fish-and-chip walkup shop). Knockturn Alley had undergone something very like urban renewal, or so she'd heard. And of course, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes continued its perennial popularity.

"Hermione!" Ginny waved to her from the second-floor balcony the minute she entered the shop. Harry stood behind her and they all hugged, as Ginny chattered away about the nice weather, Quidditch scores, and (a bit too obviously) anything else she could think of that was not related to either Hermione's job or Dark wizards. Hermione gamely put up with her friends' lengthy perusal of the latest gear at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and they returned the favour by going straight over to Flourish and Blotts so that Hermione could check out the new titles. (She also purchased a copy of the Transfiguration text so that she could return Lucius' book.). They purchased cones at Madley's Magical Ice Cream Shoppe, and sat on the sidewalk tables to enjoy them, watching the crowd go by.

"Oh-I, er, sent Miranda to you for safe-keeping this morning, hope that's all right," Hermione said, after she glanced over at the bustling Creature Shoppe. A line of black birds perched like sentinels on the shop awning caused her to abruptly return her attention to the remains of her cone.

"No problem, Harry loves her, don't you?"

"She's welcome any time-I guess I'd better stock up on Owl Treats," Harry said, with a big smile.

"So..." Ginny began. "I need to get a dress robe for the Quidditch Commentator's Association Dinner next week...Hermione, let's pop into Gladrags, and Harry, you may as well get those Owl Treats now..."

"Sounds like a plan," said Harry. "Er, our reservation is in forty-five minutes," he added, pulling out his pocket watch.

"Reservation?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, we've got a reservation at the latest restaurant-thought you'd want to come instead of going to the Cauldron like we always do! It's one of those trendy "farm to table" places, run by a Muggleborn whose brother is a chef, it's called the Grain Silo... Dad thinks it's outstanding, of course, but you know how he loves all that Muggle stuff..." Ginny trailed off, looking significantly at Harry.

"Where is it?"

"Um, down Knockturn, I think there used to be a pub there," Harry said, in a voice that was entirely too casual.

"Yes, a pretty dodgy one, or so I heard," Hermione said. Through the susurrus of the crowd, she heard a explosion of loud cawing from the far side of the street, but she firmly refused to look in its direction.

"Well, let's go, I think I know exactly what I want," Ginny said, tapping her wand on the remains of her ice cream to Vanish it. "But I need your help to decide on the colour!"

The Grain Silo epitomized the vibe of post-war Knockturn Alley. While the ancient structure of the former Claw and Stang pub remained, it was scrubbed within an inch of its life, and Hermione was reminded of nothing so much as the times that Argus Filch had been dragooned into formal wear for various school functions. There was a rather lengthy queue out front, composed of young witches and wizards mostly dressed in painstakingly assembled Edwardian casual wear, which _Accio London!_ magazine had proclaimed as this year's 'branche' look.

But of course, Harry, Ginny and Hermione didn't have to wait-the minute the maitre d' spotted them, he corralled them toward a table in the front window...which was already occupied by Ron Weasley.

"No. Way." Hermione stopped in the doorway and hissed in Ginny's ear. "I really hope this wasn't your idea!"

"It was Harry's," Ginny said. "And we had an awful row about it. Please do me a favour and put up with it for an hour and then you can leave. And by the way, I haven't said a word."

"Hello, 'Mione," Ron said, attempting to sound contrite from the off. She wasn't buying it.

"Ronald," she said, inclining her head a slight bit, before sitting as far away from him at the table as she could manage, then promptly disappearing behind the enormous menu.

"That went well," Ron said, to nobody in particular, as he lifted his arm to get the server's attention.

An hour later, the foursome sat around the remains of what had been a very delicious meal. Hermione had left Ginny, Ron and Harry with the task of carrying on the extremely awkward conversation, mostly comprised of Quidditch plays, as she sipped at her Laphroaig and picked at her food. When the waiter arrived with the cheque, Harry paid the bill, but asked for the dessert tray to be brought round and ordered coffee, then made a rather large show of pulling out his watch.

"Ginny-we have to go to that, er, thing, remember?"

"Yes," Ginny said, unenthusiastically, as she stood up.

"What thing?" Ron said.

"You know," Harry said. "Come on, Ginny-I've already paid..." and he stood up, took Ginny's hand, and the pair Disapparated.

Hermione started to stand up, and Ron held up his hand. "'Mione, please wait. Let's have coffee and dessert...I need to apologise to you!" He gave her a look that radiated such sincerity that she sat back down. "All right, Ronald," she began. "I'll listen to you, but not here-it's too public. I'll walk down the Alley with you and you can say what you need to say then." When the waiter returned, she poured the remains of her whisky into her coffee, and took a small piece of chocolate bark. Ron devoured an ice-cream cake and slurped at his coffee; Hermione rolled her eyes until he finished.

She led him to an alcove next to the jutting window of a closed shop, La Magie Noire, that looked very like Borgin and Burkes crossed with Anthropologie. As it was Sunday, the area was pretty much unoccupied.

"I'm SORRY," Ron pleaded. "I was a git, I was an arse, I've been a complete rotter...I don't know how I can make any of it up to you..."

"You can't," Hermione said.

"But...we're meant to be together! We've been through so much! I...I was just, er, sowing my wild oats! We got together so young, we never had a chance to, er, see the world! Please, please come back to me, I miss you! You were the best thing that ever happened to me!"

"Ronald, I've moved on," she said, glancing at the price tag that hung off a robe that looked very much like something she recalled Narcissa Malfoy wearing, ten years prior.

"You can't say that! You were just having fun like I was! I saw that article about McLaggen!"

"He's married now, Ronald. That was three years ago."

"So you're not with anyone now, even better! Look, I got you something!" He fumbled in his pocket and produced a small jewelry box, opened it to reveal a delicate pink necklace, and extended it to her. "Look, it matches those earrings you have!"

"Tell your mum she has fabulous taste," Hermione said. "And I am with someone now."

"No you're not," Ron said, still holding out the box. "You can't be! Harry said you weren't...he did say he saw you round Malfoy's house, but that was for work...Who are you with?"

"None of your business, Ronald," she said, as she moved her hand toward her wand. "I think we're done here." Several black birds flew behind Ron's head in a formation, headed for the shop's window ledge. Hermione chose to ignore them.

"We can't be done! Who are you with, Hermione? Tell me!"

"I said it was none of your business," and she gripped her wand. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to head home."

"Why can't I go home with you? We can, er, hang out and watch your...fellyvision!"

"Television, Ronald," she sighed. "And I need to get up early. I'm sure Harry and Ginny told you I'm leaving for Australia tomorrow."

"Why don't you come round my place, then? I can see you off-I'll take you by the Portkey Office." The look on his face was faux-casual, but he was leaning back on the balls of his feet the same way he used to in school when he was looking forward to dinner or a free period.

"I said no, Ronald." Five more birds flew by, this time very close to Ron's head-he made a face and swept his hand through his hair...then paused.

"You're not with... _him_...are you? You can't be!"

"What _are_ you talking about?" Hermione examined her wand and then rubbed the side of it against her cloak to buff away an imagined spot.

"You know! Percy saw you in the Ministry lift! You sent me that Howler but you never denied it! You've been hanging round them, working with them for all those years...and Harry said he looked like he wanted to shag you! _Has_ he shagged you?" Ron was running through possible alternatives in his head rather quickly and blurting them out as he went, his emotions exposed on his face as Hermione's visage remained impassive. "You did! You shagged a Death Eater, that nasty one who chopped off Buckbeak's head, didn't you? You're nothing but a manky slag!"

After that last utterance, a large wizard Apparated in between the two, and slammed Ron against the side of the shop.

"Shut yer geggie, ye fookin' dobber, before I chop off _yer_ haid!"


	16. Specialis Revelio

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thank you to all reviewers; I most fervently hope you enjoyed the surprise in the last chapter.

I'd like to acknowledge the fine ladies of the Death Eater Express FB group, especially the three fabulous authors who founded it: kittenshift17, canimal, and Freya Ishtar. If you are enjoying my fic, you will most certainly enjoy all of theirs! I have borrowed a couple of things from their awesome fics, primarily Walden's tracking crows (which are ravens in this story). Further, with regard to Thorfinn Rowle, I've borrowed the idea of him having been a 7th year Slytherin when Hermione started Hogwarts, having been a near-pro Quidditch player, and having long blond hair.

And with that, on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 16 - Specialis Revelio**

 _"She asked me to stay  
And I stole her room  
She asked for my love  
And I gave her a dangerous mind  
Now she's stupid in the street  
And she can't socialise  
Well I love the little girl  
And I'll love her till the day she dies"_

 _David Bowie, "Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)"_

Ron, whose feet were not precisely touching the pavement, managed to choke out "Sod off, Death Eater scum! Let me down!"

"I doona care what ye fookin' call me, but ye'll be apologizin' to the lass," and Walden punctuated each of the next words he uttered by shoving Ron against the wall a bit harder, "Right. Fucking. Now!"

Hermione watched with an indescribable look on her face; she further noted, to her chagrin, that a small crowd had gathered. "Walden," she finally said. "In my professional opinion, you _may_ want to let him take a breath fairly soon."

"Fine," he growled, releasing his hand so that Ron crumpled on the ground next to the wall. "Still waitin' to hear yer apology, plonker," he spat.

"OI! What's going on here, then!" The MLE patrolman, who'd been especially enjoying keeping an eye on the crowd of young witches queued up for the Grain Silo, dashed over in their direction, immediately spotting Hermione and Ron. "Miss Granger! Can _you_ tell me what's going on?" He peered closely at Walden, clearly not immediately recognizing him due to the bald pate and goatee. "Isn't he one of your clients? Mr. Weasley, is he harassing you?"

"He's not," came a voice from the crowd. A tall witch dressed in understated couturier robes, her hair swept up under a small, feathered hat, approached the group. "I saw the whole thing. Mr. Weasley was harassing Miss Granger. He had her backed into a corner behind my store window, trying to get her to go off somewhere with him, and wouldn't take no for an answer...and then he insulted her! I was about to step in-I feared he was going to strike her, or worse-but Mr. Macnair arrived just in time."

"And who might you be?" The patrolman reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a small notebook and a quill.

"Madam Parkinson, proprietress of La Magie Noire," said the elegant witch. "I'll be glad to give a formal statement if necessary," and she inclined her head at both Walden and Hermione.

At that moment, several flashbulbs went off.

"Walden," Hermione stretched up on her tip-toes and whispered in his ear, "I'm very glad we're leaving for Australia tomorrow."

Later, they sat together in the lodge's kitchen, staring at their identical copies of the _Evening Prophet_. Although the article about the incident was sufficiently vague, the photo of Hermione whispering in Walden's ear next to the article wasn't. His arm had been round her while she did, which she hadn't noticed at the time. Thus, the rather overblown headline was **GOLDEN TRIO GRANGER SPOTTED GETTING COZY IN KNOCKTURN WITH DEATH EATER MACNAIR!** She'd already had to silence and Incendio five Howlers...one of them, she thought, had Molly Weasley's writing on it. They'd debated sending an owl or fire-calling Lucius, then rejected the idea, figuring they might as well just worry about possible repercussions after their return journey.

She took a sip of her tea before saying, "You didn't give me a chance to explain what I said before walking off last night."

"Was just doin' what you advised me ta do, lass."

"I did eventually figure that out," she said. "It's just as well, if we'd had an argument and then make-up sex, I might have missed my appointment at St. Mungo's," she said, reaching for a piece of toast.

"Next time, I'll fuck ye so hard ye'll forget it," Walden said, as he started tamping down his pipe.

"Mind if we drop _that_ subject for the time being?" she said, after she'd crunched through her toast. "I'd prefer to clarify what I said to you, which was that I didn't think you'd want me interfering in your family reunion or that you'd want to meet my parents, given that they're Muggles, and I also...er, figured we were just having...er, a little fling..."

"Ye never asked me opinion on any o' that, lass," he said, releasing a great puff of smoke. "And I've told ye how I feel about ye."

"Oh, and, it's not that I don't think it makes you look rather more handsome, but why the haircut and the, er, beard?"

"I doona like gray hair," he said. "And I wanted to meet ye in Diagon Alley without attracting too much attention."

"I think we can safely declare that latter plan a debacle," Hermione said. She looked up at the window and observed Miranda hovering outside it, and then stood up to let her in. "Hmm...not a Howler, thank goodness...looks like it's from Ginny..."

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _We'll still be glad to board Miranda while you're gone. I'll sort through your mail and burn all the Howlers. Harry says he doesn't understand what you're up to, but he's not going to interfere, and he convinced Ron to not press any charges. Mum's not happy but I'll talk to her tomorrow._

 _Meanwhile the git is passed out on the couch downstairs and I've just Vanished his anti-hangover potion._

 _Bring me a cuddly toy koala...oh, and one for James, too!_

 _Love,_

 _Ginny_

"I like her," Walden said, after Hermione had passed the letter to him to read.

"I'm surprised she hasn't done the Bat-Bogey on him yet."

"He still didna apologize...and I do want ye ta stay with me after I meet me son, not go runnin' off-" he took a long draw on his pipe after this last statement.

"I have to find out what my parents want, first," she said. "They may not want to leave at all. They talked about visiting Australia for years-we'd actually all been planning to visit there once I left school..." and she let her voice drift off.

"Always wanted to go there meself," Walden said. "All those interestin' creatures. And, by the way, I wish someone would tell that blatherskite that I didna kill that fookin' hippogriff!"

"He knows," Hermione said. "He used to help feed it dead ferrets." She stood up. "Shouldn't we turn in soon?"

"Sure ye want to stay here and shag the big nasty Death Eater?" he said, standing up next to her.

"I was rather planning on it," she said, as she took his hand and Disapparated them upstairs.

* * *

 _"Step forward, Macnairs," said Lord Voldemort. "Step forward, Walden and Rowan, I require your presence in the other room," and without waiting for the couple to follow him, he swept away through a side door._

 _"I don't want to go, Walden," Rowan removed her mask, got up close to him, and whispered-which was not strictly necessary, as most of the Inner Circle had quickly returned to their previous amusements in relief._

 _"What-ye threw off me Imperio? Nay, lass, we have to go! He'll kill us both if we doona go with him!" Walden raised his wand. "Doona make me do it again, just go in there with me, it'll be over soon, I'll pleasure ye so ye'll enjoy it-I'll do that spell Lucius taught me, ye'll just keep comin' through the whole thing!"_

 _"I won't enjoy anything with him!" Rowan paused, then turned as someone tapped her shoulder. Bellatrix Lestrange stood there, a mocking smile on her face._

 _"What are you waiting for, girlie? He's chosen you, there is no higher honor!"_

 _"We're goin'," Walden said, grabbing Rowan's arm and pulling her quickly away so that she wouldn't answer. "What do ye think ye're doin'? She'll kill ye ta take yer place!"_

 _"I don't care," Rowan said, stopping in front of the door._

 _"We have to go in, lass, we havenae choice! I told ye, I'll make it good for ye!" He pushed the door open and pulled her through it._

 _"No!" Rowan said._

 _"Are you refusing my command, child?" said Voldemort, who was seated on the end of the bed. He lifted up his wand and lazily flicked it, so that the door closed and locked behind them. "Come here."_

 _"I won't," Rowan said, digging in her heels and reaching in her wand pocket._

 _"I regret this, Walden, you've served me well...AVADA KEDAVRA!" Rowan crumpled to the floor._

"Nay, Master, nay!" Walden sat up in bed and screamed, loud and long.

Hermione abruptly awoke and reached for her wand, her eyes muzzy from sleep and her hair in an outrageous tangle. "Walden-what's the matter..."

Walden remained still and silent, his body slicked with sweat. After a very long time, he muttered, "Nightmare."

Hermione, who had started using her wand to try and de-tangle her hair, said, "I, er, don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"Nay."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sure," he snapped. "Need to get some Dreamless Sleep," and he got up out of bed but didn't bother to put his robe on.

"Hold on," Hermione said. "You need to do a low dose of that...we have to get up in several hours...or I could do a Sleep Charm for you-" Walden turned to his bedside table and picked up his pocket watch. "Aye, we have about an hour until we need gettin' up." He sat back down. "They'll make us rest at the Portkey Office in Australia, they always do for the international ones. Have ye ever used one, lass?"

"The only Portkey I've ever used was to the World Cup," Hermione said, as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Well, this will be different than that," Walden said. "There's a room where they'll give us potion and make us rest after."

"I'm really not looking forward to it, if you must know," she said. "I don't like heights or the sensation of falling...or being out of control."

"Sure about that last bit, lass?" he said, with a smile, as he reached over for her. "I can think of somethin' we can do for an hour where ye'll have to give up a bit of control...or if ye prefer, ye can ride me..."

* * *

"It feels rather odd going in the Visitors' Entrance," Hermione said, as they stood together outside the red phone box.

"Got used to it meself," Walden said, as he opened the door to usher her in. "Ye sure ye want to go in with me? I can meet ye up there," he added.

"That ship has sailed," Hermione remarked, as she dialed 62442. "Although the odd few who haven't read the _Prophet_ in the last couple of days might think I'm escorting you to a hearing."

The Ministry Atrium, in typical Monday morning fashion, was extremely crowded. Unfortunately, the _Daily Prophet_ news stand was doing a bustling business. Even more unfortunately, the story that had been front-page news in the Evening edition was still front-page news this morning, so the first thing Hermione glimpsed was a witch doing a double-take from the picture on the front page to Walden, who was doing his level best to look inconspicuous as they rapidly walked toward the Security Desk.

"YOU!" she shouted, pointing her tea mug at him. "YOU KILLED MY CHICKEN!"

Hermione turned to him and started to ask a question, but he grabbed her arm and nearly picked her up off the floor, steering her through the crowd of Ministry workers, many of whom had started staring at them and loudly commenting.

"Oh, sod it," she muttered, then cast a Notice-Me-Not spell around them. "Should have done that before we got down here...probably should have done it last night!" They proceeded unmolested to the desk after that, and while the guard was checking Walden's wand and sending a memo off to DMLE to procure his escort, she asked, "Chicken?"

"Vicious Chicken of Bristol. 17 feet tall and breathed fire," Walden said. "And it was Burton who executed it, not me; I thought he needed the practise."

"I suppose this is the wrong time to mention that I really thought your job was disgusting," Hermione said.

"Ye wouldna think that if ye'd had yer arse scorched by that fookin' bird," Walden remarked, as he held out his hands to be cuffed by the MLE officer.

Upon their arrival at the Portkey Office, they were ushered into a waiting area. As they were rather early, Hermione sat down and withdrew a book from her beaded bag, and promptly began to read it. Meanwhile Walden was released from the cuffs and then handed a sheaf of forms and a quill by the MLE officer. Engrossed in her book, and lulled by the scratching of the quill, she didn't immediately notice when a group of wizards entered the room, but Walden spoke to them.

"Didna know ye were goin' today."

"We're off to New Zealand, yeah, nothing much left for us here," said Mr. Crabbe. "We've all got jobs at a sheep ranch." Hermione looked up curiously after this. Mr. Crabbe sat alone on a row of chairs, holding his hands up as his cuffs were removed. On the next row, Mr. Goyle and his son waited their turns.


	17. Where Women Glow and Men Plunder

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

I meant to have this update out a bit earlier, but Matters Mundane took precedence. Sorry it's so short-more next time, I promise!

For all those who celebrate Solstice, Hanukkah, and Christmas, may the season be joyful!

Thank you to all reviewers-as always! Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 17 - Where Women Glow and Men Plunder**

Knowing that the Ministry's emigration program was actually a more genteel term for deportation, Hermione decided not to comment, and waited until the MLE officer had left to nod politely at the wizards and say "Good morning, gentlemen."

Surprisingly, the elder wizards stood up and said, more or less in unison, "Good morning, Miss Granger," as if she was their teacher. They'd been on Percy's docket, so she'd not had much interaction with them during the trials. Gregory Goyle, even more surprisingly, stood up and approached her and shook her hand. "Thank you for saving me that time," he said. She'd always found it amazing that such a large person had a relatively quiet voice.

"You're welcome," she said. While she'd been paying attention to the other three wizards, Walden had sat down in the chair beside her and slung a casual, yet protective, arm around her shoulders.

"Are you going to New Zealand, too, Walden?" Mr. Crabbe asked.

"Nay, I'm goin' to Australia to get me son and bring him back home," he replied. "Nae sure if ye remember, but I sent him away after me wife was killed."

"I liked your wife," Crabbe said. "She gave us Firewhisky and food after the Triwizard. I saw your picture in the Prophet. Are you going to marry Miss Granger now?"

Hermione immediately blushed, and Walden cleared his throat. "She's, er, just sharing me Portkey, Rufus."

"Oh," Crabbe said. "Can you help us fill out these papers?" He directed this last statement to Hermione, who tried not to sigh. No matter what changes occurred in her life, there seemed no escape from her role as homework assistant.

"Walden, why don't you help them, I'm going to run to the loo..." Hermione felt the need to regain her composure just a bit.

By the time she returned, the wizards were intent over their respective forms and the wall clock indicated there was thirty more minutes until departure time, so she returned to her reading for the duration. Walden finished his stack of papers first, and looked up at her with a smile. The other three wizards appeared to be copying off his work, which didn't surprise her. She was curious in spite of herself, so she stood up, walked over, and glanced first at Gregory's work, then at the papers of the two other wizards.

"Hang on, you're not all called Walden Macnair," she said, stifling a giggle. "And you said you were going to a sheep ranch, not to pick up your son."

"Told ye ta nae copy those bloody parts, ye damned numpties," Walden said.

With a put-upon sigh, Hermione waved her wand over the three wizards' forms-she already knew Mr. Crabbe's first name, and was unsurprised to find that Mr. Goyle's first name was Maynard.

The two wizards stood up again and said, "Thank you," again more or less in unison, and Hermione set her lips in a thin line so that she wouldn't be reminded of the old Muggle nursery rhyme about Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Further, she fervently hoped that Walden wouldn't get annoyed, because if one of his ravens appeared, she'd definitely be unable to keep her hard-fought composure. Thankfully, the officer returned to pick up the forms and usher them toward the Portkey Room before too long.

Although Hermione had, of course, read up on it, she found the International Portkey to be fascinating. It resembled nothing so much as a smaller version of a centrifuge ride from a Muggle amusement park, with comfortable seats ringed round the center axis rather than standing areas. She was quite glad there was something to hang onto other than Walden's arm. He led her to seats on the far side of the ring from where the other three wizards had placed themselves. After everyone was seated, a Ministry official came bearing packages and stacks of papers, and magically attached them into several of the other seats.

At the appointed time, the center of the structure glowed blue and they were instantly aloft, spinning in dizzy circles. Hermione planted her feet firmly on the structure's floor, gripped her seat handles as tightly as possible, and hoped that she wouldn't get sick. Walden leaned back in his chair casually, Gregory Goyle held his hands up and shouted in excitement, and the two other wizards held a shouted conversation.

By the time they stopped at the Portkey Office in Lhasa for a one-hour layover, Hermione fervently wished she'd just taken British Airways. Walden offered to buy her a yak wrap and a beer from the lounge, which she declined. When none of the wizards were looking, she popped an over-the-counter travel sickness remedy from Boots, hoping it would work quickly.

At last, they touched down in Sydney. Hermione was instantly swept away to a recovery room and handed a potion by an extremely chipper witch, while the rest of the party were kept in their seats by burly Australian MLE functionaries and the papers and packages were taken away by others. The recovery room was rather comfortable, featuring four oversized wingback recliners piled high with pillows and lovely, fuzzy blankets, framed pictures of Australian landmarks on the wall, a table with tea things, and a private powder room. She climbed into one of the chairs and pulled a blanket over herself, intent on a nap. She'd closed her eyes for what felt like an instant when a quiet knock sounded on the door-it was the chipper witch, accompanied by Walden.

"Pardon me, Miss Granger, but this wizard insists he's traveling with you," she said.

Blinking a few times, Hermione responded, "He is," followed by a rather large yawn. "Sorry!"

The witch looked rather surprised, but she stepped aside to allow Walden to enter the room, and then said, "Ta! I'll be back in two hours, then, to Apparate you to Melbourne."

"They were gonna keep me in another room with Rufus, Maynard, and Greg, and I kept tellin' 'em that I was with ye, and they wouldna listen, and I had to count to ten like ye told me..." Walden began, as he started to sit down in the chair next to Hermione.

"Hang on," she said, taking out her wand and tapping it on her chair to enlarge it. "Sit with me."

"Thank ye, _mo ghra_ ," he said, as he kissed her hand and sat down next to her. "This is much nicer than the other room. Ye know, I doona think they much like havin' us here."

"They agreed to the Emigration Program, and you're not even on that, so they should have been a bit more courteous," Hermione said, and then paused. "Think I might get a cup of tea, do you want one?"

"I'd rather kiss ye," Walden said, reaching over for her. "We can have the tea after..." and he let his voice drift off as he began to kiss her deeply. They spent the next few minutes relatively innocently, until he slipped his hand under her robe and murmured, "Can ye recline this all the way?" She giggled and tapped her wand on the chair, and it obliged. "All the way, you say? I should probably charm the door in that case...unless you liked the look of that witch."

"Nae me type," he said, as he unbuttoned his outer robe and slipped it off.

They did eventually get a bit of rest and had managed to recombobulate themselves before the witch (whose name turned out to be Stella) returned.

"I'll be Apparating you to the wizarding shopping district-it's sort of like your Diagon Alley-" she began. "It's called Sorcerer's Arcade, and it's adjacent to a rather famous Muggle shopping centre," and she paused after this and looked significantly at Walden.

To bridge the uncomfortable conversational gap, Hermione jumped in with the information she'd read in her tourist guide. "The Royal Arcade? I was hoping to visit there."

"Yep! You'll find an inn called the Slender Wombat in Sorcerer's Arcade, and there's a reservation already made for you tonight, Miss Granger," she added. Switching her tone to patronizing, she continued, "Er, Mr. Macnair, I assumed you'd be going on to meet your family-if you'd like, you can borrow one of our owls to send a message to them." She did not look thrilled at all by the prospect of handing over anything to Walden, who by now was glaring at her.

"We'll be staying together at the inn, Stella," Hermione said. "The plan was to meet up with Walden's family tomorrow morning. I assume that's not a problem?"

"Oh! Er...I suppose not," Stella said, in a voice that suggested otherwise.

"Do ye have some kind o' problem with me?" Walden inquired, in a rather sharp tone, after which two ravens materialized in the air next to him. Hermione bit her lip and slipped her hand into his. Stella raised her eyebrows.

"I do," she finally said. "I don't like the idea that one of your...kind is visiting our community."

"And what kind would that be?" Walden said, in an extremely cold tone, which Hermione, to her chagrin, remembered as the one he'd used back when he was at the school in an official capacity for the Buckbeak Incident. He was also gripping her hand much too tightly, and three more ravens had appeared. She was completely fascinated, in an academic sense, in the way that they spiraled to life out of thin air, almost as if they were Apparating, and made a mental note to ask him more about the process later.

"Pardon me...but if you were not aware, I was Mr. Macnair's defence barrister during the Death Eater trials," she began, and both Stella and Walden visibly flinched when she mentioned his former affiliation. "And he has served his time, in Azkaban and under house arrest; he's now on parole with a conditional pardon." She paused again, this time for dramatic effect. "Meaning if he fucks up, it's straight back to Azkaban for life...and I can send him there by means of one Patronus." She wasn't actually certain how long it would take a Patronus to get back to Britain from Australia, and took a brief second to ponder that fact before heading straight into Alpha Witch Barrister mode. "So if you have any more questions or concerns, now's the time for them before the subject is closed."

"Er...actually I do," Stella said. "What's with all the bloody birds?" By now, at least twenty ravens were perched in various locations around the room, including Walden's shoulder. Several were cawing loudly, and one had just left a large pile of droppings next to the tea service.


	18. Luckenbooth

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

I'm considering doing a Pinterest page for this fic-I've never seriously delved into that site, but I really want to combat the bad casting of Movie!Macnair.

To SilverLionness-thank you for your review, I'm glad you appreciate him.

And an extra big Thank You to all reviewers-as always! Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 18 - Luckenbooth**

"I'll make 'em go away," Walden said. "Just give me a couple o' minutes to say farewell to me friends," and he gestured, presumably in the direction of the other waiting room, toward Crabbe and the Goyles.

"Fair enough," Stella said. She waited until he'd left to turn to Hermione. "He didn't need to get stroppy with me, is that why all the birds showed up?"

Hermione Vanished the bird droppings from where they'd been deposited around the room, and noted that several of the birds had also vanished.

"He has anger management issues, and an extremely restricted wand," she finally said, as she tapped the tea kettle. "Sorry, do you mind?"

"No worries, I think I'll have one myself, we're not in any rush," Stella said, as she sat down in one of the seats. Hermione floated a tea cup toward her and then prepared one for herself. She noted that there were only about three birds left, none of which were leaving behind any messes.

"Look, mate, I don't mean to be a stickybeak...but are you really with that Macnair bloke? I mean, you're...er, who you are and he's, er...who he is." After she said this, as if to underscore the unspoken phrase, the ravens cawed nearly in unison.

"I know him fairly well after being his defence barrister," Hermione said. "We're traveling together because, well, this is the first vacation I've had in years, and I needed to come here."

"I read about it in the _Prophet_ , my grannie sends it to me," Stella said. "You sent your Muggle parents here, yes?"

"I did," Hermione said. "They're in Brisbane, they have a lovely house-I used Google Earth to see it-" she paused, and Stella nodded, confirming her suspicions. "They're dentists-retired now, but they still do charity work, and they go sailing a lot. There's a fairly large chance they won't want to come back to Britain at all. And I'm not sure what they'll think about how long it took to come get them. They were always very supportive of me but, toward the end, when the war started heating up, my father was pretty upset..." and she paused. "Sorry! I'm babbling, but I'm very nervous about seeing them, I'm really glad we're going to get Walden's son first, actually." She floated the biscuit tray over and examined the contents; she was fairly sure none of the birds had landed on it or left any souvenirs behind, so she took a biscuit and munched on it, before sending it in Stella's direction.

"No thanks, I had a fairly big brekky," Stella said. "So, he sent his son here to keep him safe? I don't remember reading about that in the _Prophet_ , but that was in his visa application."

"He did...after, er, You-Know-Who killed his wife, he sent his daughter and son away, and had no idea where they were until a couple of months ago, not long after the trials ended."

"Is that why he got parole, then?"

"One of the reasons," Hermione replied.

"But those other blokes, they're..."

"Being deported, yeah," Hermione finished. "They weren't exactly the brains of the outfit, as you no doubt noticed."

Stella waved her wand to refill her teacup. "As long as they don't cause trouble for us or the Kiwis I suppose I'm good with it...I don't like what your bloke did, but he is spunk," she said, winking at Hermione, who had absolutely no idea what the latter term meant, but made a mental note to look it up later. Sensing her confusion, Stella added, "He's good-looking."

Hermione blushed. "He is."

"So I can assume by that complexion of yours that you _are_ with him, then?"

"I'm not sure exactly how to describe it, or how to explain it to my parents, or anybody, really, but yes, we are together."

"As long as you don't get back with that Weasley yobbo, I guess it's really none of my business."

"Chances of that are pretty slim at this point-you'll see in the _Prophet_..."

"If he tries to bother the lass again he'll have more to worry about than a little birdshite," Walden said, as he walked back into the recovery lounge. "He insulted her." Two of the three ravens remaining in the room immediately flew up and landed on his shoulders. "I'm ready to go, these will leave when we leave-sorry about the mess..."

"No worries, mate," Stella said. "Miss Granger took care of all that, shall we go?"

They Disapparated directly from the room into an alley adjacent to the Royal Arcade in Melbourne. Hermione looked around in surprise, and asked, "Isn't this a Muggle area?"

"It is-you may as well see the Royal Arcade while you're here. No worries, the entrance is easy, just head in, look for a store called the Spellbox-go all the way to the back, and then step behind the red bookshelf. It's charmed against Muggles. Have fun-maybe I'll see ya on your return trip!" With a brief wave, Stella Disapparated.

"I guess she got me back for me ravens," Walden said, as he stood still so that Hermione could Transfigure his robes into the kilt and jumper she recalled from their pub trip... _I suppose that was our first date_ , she thought, although it still seemed odd to think of their relationship as normal. "I did have a little chat with her," Hermione said, after she then changed his jumper for a lighter shirt and tied her jacket around her waist, considering the rather warm weather.

"I wonder why Muggles would have a store called the Spellbox?" he mused, as they crossed Bourke Street toward the arched entrance.

"I have a pretty good idea," she replied. The shopping arcade was imbued with Victorian charm and had been decorated for Christmas; glimmering lights dangled from the ceilings, and Hermione could tell that Walden was entranced in spite of himself. They stopped to look at a jewelry store window just past the entrance...small red boxes were piled up in the shape of a tree, with sterling silver necklaces serving as ornaments. Next door, there was a chocolatier, and Hermione beamed at the display in its window.

"Do you mind if I pop in here for a bit?" she asked. "I-er, I'd not mind some chocolate, I could get you some as well?" "I'll wait for ye here, lass," Walden said, sounding just a bit too casual. "I'll hurry," she said, figuring he was likely very uncomfortable surrounded by Muggles. The arcade was fairly crowded with shoppers trying to get a jump on holiday shopping.

When she emerged with a small carrier bag laden with chocolate, Walden wasn't standing in precisely the same place that she left him, but she figured he'd probably moved out of the way of the crowd. They continued on and encountered the Spellbox, which was, as Hermione had surmised, a Muggle occult shop, very atmospheric. Walden, to his credit, was extremely silent as they proceeded through the store, although she noticed him raising his eyebrows just a bit at the display of magic wands. Hermione nodded at the shop assistant, who winked at her. They walked behind the red bookshelf, as instructed, which led to a short passageway connecting to a shopping arcade which greatly resembled the one they'd just left, except larger...and swarming with witches and wizards, some of whom were dressed in floor-sweeping robes and tall hats and others in eccentric Muggle wear. Knowing that he'd feel more comfortable, she took his hand and re-Transfigured his clothes back to the lightweight robe he'd been wearing.

"Thank ye, lass," he said, before they exited onto the main thoroughfare. The Slender Wombat turned out to be the first building they spotted, so they headed straight there. It was similar to the Leaky Cauldron in that it was a pub and inn, but it was much newer, and rather more light and airy. It was packed with patrons, and Hermione noted that Walden stiffened at her side and glanced around warily. She went to the bar and inquired about her room reservation, after which she received a key. Walden used the pub's owl to send a message to his daughter, and Hermione arranged a wake-up alarm at 7 AM so they could prepare for Evan's arrival the next morning. Then, a waitress showed the couple to a table tucked away in the back corner. Walden immediately helped her into the seat opposite the room, and he ordered a bottle of whisky before sitting in the seat in the corner, facing outward. She'd not expected any different, so she accepted the menu gratefully.

"I didn't realise it right away but I am fairly hungry," and she bypassed the snack section in favour of the entrees-they both ordered steak, although his was considerably larger. Both began feeling rather tired as they finished their supper, so they ordered coffees and a pavlova to share for dessert.

Before the dessert arrived, Walden reached in his pocket and pulled out a small red box, which she recognized as having come from the Muggle jewelry store. She was rather surprised, but thought she'd managed to keep her composure, until he started chuckling.

"It's nae exactly what ye think, lass," he said.

"What do you mean by _not exactly_?" she said, and then yawned widely. "Sorry!"

"Ye know I love ye," he said. "And if things were different for both of us I'd ask ye to marry me right now, but I heard what ye and that Ministry lass said." He opened the box and held it out to her; a sterling silver pendant in the shape of two intertwined stylized hearts with a crown on top rested on the velvet inside. "It's a betrothal token," he added, "I want ye to have it so ye know me intentions."

"I, er...I mean, er, thank you," she stammered. Rarely was she without words, but the trip and the rich food and now this development, while not completely unexpected, were all combining to overwhelm her. He stood up and came around to her side of the table and fastened the necklace on her, then kissed her hand.

"Could you ask for our dessert to be sent upstairs?" she asked, as the waitress approached.

* * *

It was a very rainy morning at the Burrow. Molly Weasley was in the midst of multitasking her various household chores...Christmas jumpers for Harry, Ginny and James were taking shape in the living room, five cast-iron pots were being scrubbed in the kitchen sink, and she was cooking a fry-up for Ron. He'd arrived very late the previous evening in extremely bad humour, grumbling several vaguely polite phrases to his mother as he stomped up the stairs to his old bedroom, which had become one of many guest rooms (but still sported a Chudley Cannons poster on the back of the door). As she levitated the plates toward the table, the bell over the back door chimed twice, and she glanced out of the window, observing two tall wizards approaching the house, one of whom she recognized.

To her credit, her wand only wavered a bit, causing one of the plates to land oddly and wobble slowly into place as she opened the door.

"Good morn, Molly," Gavin Macnair said, as he swept his hand toward his companion. "I'd like ye to meet me clan chief, and cousin, Hamish Macfarlane. Hamish, this is Molly Weasley, an old school friend of mine," he added. The two shook hands.

"Won't you two come in?" Molly said. "I was just getting ready to serve a late breakfast to my son, and you both are certainly welcome to join us."

"It's actually your son, Ronald, that I'm wantin' to speak with," Macfarlane said, as he sat down in the chair that Molly indicated, next to Gavin.

Molly paused and looked at him; as she was levitating a tea pot in his direction, she waited until it had sat down to respond. "Why would you need to speak with him?"

He cleared his throat. "He's needin' to make things right with one of the family."

"What does that mean, exactly?" She moved plates over from the cabinet and sat them down in front of the two wizards.

"Fiona Macfarlane, me niece, was involved with Ronald until sometime last month, when he broke things off, tellin' her that he was wantin' to get back with his ex-girlfriend." The large man paused, adjusting his jacket a bit.

"I doona think there's any chance of him doin' that, Hamish, like I just said," Gavin said.

"Which ex-girlfriend? I recall Fiona," Molly said. "She came here with Ronald for Easter dinner, but he didn't let us know in advance and it was a bit of a kerfluffle...wait," she said, looking at Gavin. "Would that last bit have anything to do with _your son_?" and she added an extremely slight veneer of bitterness to the last two words.

"Aye," Gavin said, inclining his head at her. "I ken ye've already seen the papers," and he glanced over at the rather large stack of _Daily Prophets_ on the kitchen hearth. "But this is nae to do with Walden, we're here about Ronald and Fiona," he finished, giving a significant look to Hamish.

"I'll need ta have yer husband here for all the arrangements, but Ronald will be a father in four months, and he'll be needin' to marry Fiona," Hamish said, after which he picked up his spoon and stirred sugar into his tea.

Molly abruptly pointed her wand at her throat, intoned, "RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, YOU GET DOWN HERE STRAIGHTAWAY!" then flicked her wand in the direction of the stairs. A glowing white bear flew straight up through the ceiling.


	19. A Nice Day to Start Again

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

To Cochran4444-nobody (save me, of course, LOL) has claimed him yet...I'm trying to fix that, much as I appreciate Thorfinn and Antonin.

And to avt1988-I think Ronnikins deserves it, too. (Back in the day, I was a Harmony shipper!)

And an extra big Thank You to all reviewers-as always! Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 19 - A Nice Day to Start Again**

Coffee notwithstanding, when Hermione and Walden got upstairs and spotted the lovely king bed featuring ten pillows and covered by a soft, luxurious sheepskin blanket, their thoughts did not turn in a carnal direction-rather, they succumbed rather rapidly to Portkey lag and fell asleep at around 4:30 PM, not long after demolishing the pavlova.

Hermione was the first to wake the next morning, so she ordered room-service breakfast, took a long leisurely bath, and read the local paper, the _Melbourne Magical Messenger_ , which was fairly informative with regard to Antipodean news, but not much else. She was relieved to find no announcement of either her or Walden's visit. When the food (and the wake-up notice she'd arranged) arrived, Walden stirred. He seemed immediately agitated, and not even the breakfast-which featured lots of toast and porridge, thus should have been to his liking-pacified him. He stood up, clutched his tea, and started pacing, then took a hasty shower, after which he returned to the room and started fiddling with his pipe.

"Lass, please tell me ye have a Calming Draught in that bag of yers," he finally said, after he dropped his tobacco pouch, spilling its entire contents onto the floor. Annoyed, he Vanished the mess, and was even more annoyed when the charm worked and he realized he had nothing left to put in his pipe.

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said, Summoning her bag and withdrawing the potion, which he quaffed instantly.

"I wanted to pleasure ye last night and this morn, but I canna concentrate on anythin' right now, I'm sorry...I'm going to go downstairs for a bit, the barman told me there was a tobacco shop next to the pub, do ye want to come along?"

Hermione's tolerance for Walden's smoking sadly didn't extend to being immersed in what was sure to be a rather stuffy, aromatic environment, so she declined. They synchronized their watches and agreed to meet in the pub at 8:45, which allowed plenty of time for them to be settled and ready for Evan's arrival at 9.

Although Walden wasn't altogether comfortable with walking around on his own, he was relieved to find that Sorcerer's Arcade was not nearly as crowded as it had been the previous day. Rather than heading straight to the tobacco shop, he decided to take a short stroll around the area, spurred on by the soothing waves of the potion coursing through his system. By the time he reached the shop, he was in a mellower mood, so when the proprietor gave him a cheery greeting, he wasn't tempted to hex him.

"Gidday, mate, what can I get for ya?"

"Lookin' for some Cavendish," Walden said, as he set his empty pouch on the counter.

"We've got a nice cherry blend, ya can try it out, see if ya like it," he replied, as he Summoned a large glass container from a nearby shelf.

"Thank ye," Walden said, as he filled his pipe and then lit it with the end of his wand.

"Have a sit-down, mate," and the proprietor pointed toward an area where several wizards congregated and a bluish-grey haze from both pipes and cigars filled the air. A familiar array of green bottles waited invitingly on a hand-wrought wooden table; Walden sat down next to it, and one of the wizards said, "Looks like ya could use a shot of grog...or there's some coldies under the table," and pointed toward a metal washtub filled with beer and ice. Walden did not balk at the early hour, and started to examine the whisky bottles.

"What's yer poison, mate?" one of the other wizards asked.

"Laphroaig," Walden said.

"We don't have that, sorry, but try Overeem-it's pretty strong," and the wizard flicked his wand at one of the bottles, opening it, pouring a shot and then levitating it into Walden's hand in one very smooth movement.

* * *

"Sorry, Mum, I didn't mean to be late for breakfast..." Ron mumbled, as he entered the kitchen, running a hand through his rumpled, unwashed hair and attempting to straighten his wrinkled robes. His wand fell out of his pocket, clattered on the floor, rolled across the kitchen and stopped directly in front of Hamish Macfarlane's Wellington boots.

"Ye must be Ronald," Macfarlane said, giving him a thin-lipped, disapproving glare, as Ron stumbled over, picked up his wand, and wiped it on his robe.

"Uh, who're you?" Ron asked, not entirely rudely, as he shambled over toward an empty chair.

"Ronald, get yourself together right now!" Molly abruptly screeched, brandishing her wand, which shot out a few stray red sparks. "Stand up straight and introduce yourself to these two gentlemen!"

"Uh, Mum, could I have some tea first?"

"You most certainly may not! These wizards are here to see you. This is Gavin Macnair, and the other gentleman is...er, sorry..."

"Hamish Macfarlane," he supplied, as he stood up and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you?" Ron said, as he shook his hand. Gavin walked around the table and examined him closely before extending his hand.

"Macnair?" Ron asked, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. "Are you, er, by chance related to...er...Why are you here?"

"It's customary to shake me hand first, laddie," Gavin growled. Ron obliged in a very unenthusiastic way, and then said, "Er, does this have something to do with what happened down Knockturn last night?"

"Nay," Gavin said. "Hamish, here, is me clan chief and cousin, as well as cousin to Fiona," and upon hearing those last words, Ron blanched, screwed up his face, and made a very unattractive gulping sound.

"And wee Fiona is in the family way," Hamish continued. "We're here to arrange the betrothal contract, as soon as your father arrives."

Ron glanced at his mother, who said, in an extremely clipped tone, "Your father is on his way, he just sent his Patronus." To Hamish, she said, as she smiled widely, "I think a New Year's wedding might be best, what do you think?"

"It sounds marvelous, dear lady," he said, and kissed her hand. "I look forward to meeting the rest of your family."

After the longest and most excruciating three hours of Ron's life, the three Weasleys sat together around the kitchen table, each clutching cups of tea.

"Well," Arthur began. "I rather liked Fiona, you could do worse, son." Privately, he recalled when the vivacious blonde had attempted, unsuccessfully, to flirt with every wizard in the house at Easter dinner, but he felt it impolitic to remind Ron of that unpleasant occasion.

"But..." Ron whined. "I mean, she's really pretty and very nice, but...er, I was trying to get back together with 'Mione, and..."

"And you completely buggered _that_ , Ronnikins," said Ginny, after she stepped out of the fireplace and dusted herself off. "Time to move on, you're about to be an old married chap!" She handed a very bundled-up James to Molly, who immediately began cooing at her grandson. "Want to go with me to the Quidditch Commentator's dinner next week? Harry'll be working late...again."

"I guess," said Ron, looking down morosely at his tea. "Maybe I can get someone there to hit me with a Bludger."

"Have them do it more than once, to remind you that you should always talk to your witch about Contraception Charms or potions _before_ you play blanket hornpipe!" Molly blurted, as she chucked James under the chin.

Ginny spluttered and laughed out loud. Ron continued sulking. "I did," he offered. "I think this happened after that Weird Sisters concert, this dodgy bloke offered us some potion and I didn't want to take it, but..."

"I don't wish to hear any more about that, Ronald! At least we don't have to have the wedding here, Gavin's offered up his castle as a venue, it should be lovely..."

* * *

At 8:50, after Hermione had unsuccessfully awaited Walden's return to the Wombat, she consulted the waitress and dashed next door to the tobacco shop.

"...and good luck with your sonny boy, mate!" shouted a wizard, from the seating area.

"Thank ye, laddie," Walden said. As he started to open the door and exit the shop, he glimpsed Hermione heading toward the door, and smiled. "Lass! Sorry, I lost track o' time-" he said, as he took her hand.

"You're not late, let's just get back there-oh no, have you been drinking?" The unmistakable aromas of both whisky and tobacco permeated Walden's robes.

"Just a wee dram or two," he replied, "But I took a Sobriety Potion," he added, as they walked quickly back up the pub's stairs.

"Are you, er, feeling any better?"

"Loads, those blokes were friendly. Even if they did know who I was, and I think one or two of them might've...they didna say anythin'. They even gave me some cigars."

"Oh, ugh, please don't smoke those around me, I don't mind the pipe, but..."

"I'll smoke 'em outside, _mo ghra_ , dinna fash." He pulled out Hermione's chair and helped her into it. The waitress returned with two cups of tea, a toast rack and a container of butter. They'd just started preparing their tea when the pub's door opened to reveal two short-haired witches dressed in Muggle sports attire, accompanied by a tall black-haired boy wearing wizarding robes.

"Oh my!" Hermione gasped. "He really does look an awful lot like you."

"DAD!" shouted Evan, as he ran toward the table. Walden jumped up and scooped Evan into a tight hug. "Let me look at ye, me lad, ye're so tall!" he said, after which they both sat down next to each other, beaming all the while. Meanwhile, Hermione had stood up and was introducing herself to the two witches, who assured her they already knew who she was, and they were quite glad to see her. "Heather and Melissa Macnair, nice ta meet ya," said Heather, jovially, before she turned to her father and Evan. "Finally got hitched last year!" added Melissa, addressing this last to Hermione.

"You look a bit familiar, Melissa," Hermione said.

"My sister was in Gryffindor with you, Katie Bell?" Melissa supplied.

"Oh! I just saw her last month with George and Angelina at a drinks party at Harry's, in fact. Do you hear from her often?"

"We were keeping a low profile down here until the trials were over," she replied. "But she's planning to come back with me when I check in at my job, says she's always wanted to see Australia. We've got loads of room, hope you planned to stay with us." Melissa continued to chat with Hermione as the three Macnairs renewed their acquaintance.

"But, I thought you were coming back with us?"

"We've sublet our house to some friends, but they know not to move in until next week. Heather has an apprenticeship lined up with Ollivander, and I'm taking a sabbatical...we haven't decided if we want to move back to the UK permanently yet..."

"Well, we, I mean, er, Walden cleared out some space for you at the lodge," Hermione said.

"Oh, so you two _are_ together. I wondered, after I saw that column in the _Prophet_ , and Gavin did mention something about it in his owl..."

"I'm not sure there's anyone in the entire wizarding world who hasn't read that stupid column," Hermione said. "Sorry!"

"No worries," Melissa replied. "I guess it's a little tough to get used to in Britain, I mean, practically everyone's related if you look back far enough in their family trees. It was nice to live here for a while, it's far more casual."

"I've given some thought to relocating," Hermione admitted. "I suppose it depends on what happens when we, I mean, er, I see my parents..."

"Sounds like you might already have some of that decided," and she flicked her eyes to the necklace glimmering around Hermione's neck. "Heather gave me one of those when we were first together, yeah...Macnairs like to settle down," and she smiled and winked.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Originally, I envisioned Walden as being the same age as Lucius (b.1954), but to fit the storyline of Gavin and Molly having been at Hogwarts together, I shifted things a bit. Thus, Gavin (b.1943) and Molly (b.1950) met when he was a Gryffindor 7th year Prefect, and she was a firstie. Walden (b. 1961) was born right after Gavin left school; his wife, Elspeth, is a year older than him. If you read my original trilogy, you will note that Severus Snape (b.1960) was originally supposed to be younger than Walden, but let's just surmise that living in a dungeon and being perpetually mentally mired in the past kept him looking younger than tromping around the outdoors slaying various magical beasts...shall we?


	20. Overkill

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

This chapter was extra difficult to write, even though I had it all plotted out. And then Real Life intervened to knock me off my weekly schedule, but I'm hoping to be back to that.

There will be a lot more to come concerning Ron and his upcoming nuptials, and Lucius will be back soon, as well.

An extra big Thank You to all reviewers-as always! Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 20 - Overkill**

 _Especially at night  
I worry over situations  
I know will be alright  
It's just overkill_

 _Day after day it reappears  
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear  
Ghosts appear and fade away_

"Overkill," Men At Work

The toast and tea that Hermione and Walden had ordered turned into a rather large breakfast, which stretched out for several lazy hours. After that, Heather Disapparated everyone to the Great Ocean Road for a brisk sightseeing walk, so by the time they returned to the Macnairs', everyone was happily exhausted.

The next three days were spent in touring and getting acquainted. Evan was bright and curious, but had been thoroughly briefed on his heritage and circumstances by his half-sister, so he didn't ask any difficult questions at first. Further, he was completely enamored of Hermione almost immediately; he asked her right away to autograph his favorite book, _Adventures of the Golden Trio_ , and if she would consider meeting some of his friends from the magical primary school he attended.

"Should I?" she asked Walden, as they climbed into the very comfortable guest room bed they'd been sharing.

"Might as well, lass," he said, as he pulled her close and kissed her. "I doona think he's going to want any of them to meet me."

"Oh, you don't know that," she replied, after she kissed him back, and then reached for her current book from the bedside table.

"Heather said he never talks about me with his friends, and didna really start asking about me until about a year ago, when he read that book."

"Yes, well, that book is a bit embarrassing, really, I'm glad it's not widely available in Britain. I hope none of Evan's friends ask me anything about Ron, that ending made it sound as if we were destined to be married any minute." She reached behind her to fluff up her pillow a bit.

Walden scowled, and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "I shoulda pulverized him."

"What was that?"

"Nothin' important," he said, as he got up out of bed and headed toward the door. "Goin' to the loo."

When he returned, he was a bit calmer, and they made tentative arrangements to meet Evan's friends the next day, and then head to Brisbane on Saturday.

* * *

Wendell and Monica Wilkins lived in a lovely Queenslander house in a quiet suburb of Brisbane. Hermione had done her preliminary research well, and had concluded that she (and Walden, if he accompanied her) could take a Portkey from Melbourne and then use Muggle transportation for the final leg of the journey to their neighborhood. She planned to first telephone from a nearby convenience store to ensure they were home, and then start lifting the spell as she approached the house, hoping that by the time they answered the door, her parents' memories would slowly be filtering back to them and they'd have a lovely, joyous reunion.

Sadly, things didn't go according to plan.

As she was in a rather agitated mood the morning they left, she and Walden began to bicker about everything from how to hold the Portkey (which was a can of Foster's Lager) right on down to the Muggle taxicab she hailed in the street nearest the Brisbane wizarding district. She hadn't wanted to eat anything at breakfast, and had rushed him out of the inn before he finished his food, which made him peckish in addition to rather tired (as he hadn't finished his second cup of tea, either). To make matters worse, her parents' neighborhood turned out to be neither quiet nor deserted that Saturday morning. She could feel Walden bristling at her side as he warily eyed the crowds of Muggles swarming around the store and car park...and, as she surveyed the area, she noted that five ravens had already landed on the store's roof. Luckily, she'd done a quick Notice-Me-Not spell so that nobody would stare too much at Walden. Although he was wearing the kilt and linen shirt again, at her request, he stood out among the shorted and t-shirted crowd. She had opted for a sun dress, cardigan, and flats, and fit in perfectly.

The final bit of annoyance was the rather lengthy queue for the pay-phones. Of course, she was glad that they were there; she did own a cellular phone, but she kept it well insulated in her apartment, as the more magic that was performed around it, the worse it seemed to work, and she hadn't wanted to risk bringing it on a Portkey journey.

By the time she placed the call and reluctantly told her father that she'd dialed the wrong number, she was beginning to wish that she hadn't brought Walden along, as his presence was less than comforting, and was considering sending him back to the Brisbane Portkey Office on his own.

"Let's get this over with," she sighed, turning to him.

"The sooner we can get away from these damned Muggles, the better," Walden growled, in a rather Death-Eaterish manner, to her chagrin.

"If you hadn't recalled, we're going to see more of them in a minute," she snapped.

"Tryin' to forget about that part of it," he replied, scowling, as they began to walk down the street.

"Look, you don't need to come with me!" she said, after they'd turned the corner and started walking down her parents' street. "You can go back to Melbourne and help your family pack up!"

"I promised ye I'd be here for ye," he said.

"Well, you're _not_ helping!" she said, as she raised her wand and wordlessly cast the first spell to lift the False Memory Charm, adding in a little extra oomph to move it rapidly toward the white frame house, which was getting closer as they slowly ambled down the sidewalk.

It was at that moment Walden decided to remark, "Ye know, Yaxley went to your London house with Dolohov, found it deserted."

"What? You never told me that before!" She paused on the sidewalk and turned to him. "And neither did he mention that, as far as I know, during the trials, or Orla would have told me. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Forgot about it," Walden said, rather offhandedly.

"Nice to know I went to all this trouble for a good reason!" Hermione snapped, as she cast a second spell.

"Och, aye, they were supposed to capture yer parents," he said.

"Look, do you think you could possibly shut it about that?" Hermione said, looking rather angry. "Possibly until we're done speaking with them?" She cast a third spell. As she did this, the door of the Wilkins' house opened, and her father walked out onto the porch, presumably to retrieve the newspaper. Two ravens flew down to the yard and began pecking at the grass next to him, which caused him to glance up, then he spotted Hermione and Walden and did a double-take.

"Hermione?" he asked, tentatively.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, and ran toward him, hoping for a hug, but he was looking a bit bemused, and she stopped short.

"I think you'd better come inside," he said. "And bring your...er...friend," he added, with a rather nervous glance at Walden.

* * *

After a very uncomfortable thirty-minute chat, Hermione and Walden found themselves on the sidewalk yet again, waiting for another Muggle taxi. Hermione had rather unenthusiastically cast a Cheering Charm on herself as they left the house so that she wouldn't burst into tears. Neither of them said anything to each other until they were back in their inn room in the Brisbane wizarding district, which was located near a market in the city's West End.

"Have you ever heard of a charm degrading over time like that?" Hermione finally asked, after Walden had sat her down in the room's lone armchair with a glass of Laphroaig.

"Canna say as I have, lass," he said.

"And they kept those _Daily Prophets_ , and that annoying Ministry pamphlet, I didn't think to take them with me..." she took a long swallow of her drink. "I suppose if you hadn't rolled your sleeves up..."

"It was bloody well hot, and they might have found out some other way," he said. "Ye knew there was a chance they wouldna want to come back to Britain."

"But to tell me that they 'need time to understand what I'm doing with my life now,' in that tone of voice," Hermione said. "They never once sounded disappointed in me when I was growing up, or when I was in school. I thought they'd at least be happy with my career choice, barristers are essentially the same in the Muggle world." She waved her wand and poured herself another drink. "I wonder why they didn't try to contact me...or the Weasleys? They'd spoken to them before."

"Didna ye take yer owl with ye when ye left?"

"I didn't actually have one then; I did have a cat, but I left him at the Burrow with Mrs. Weasley, he liked to chase the gnomes there..."

"They wouldna have been able ta do much without one-but ye said they went to Diagon Alley..."

"They were able to go there and to Platform 9 3/4 because I was with them, apparently." She stood up and stretched. "I...can we get some more whisky?"

"O' course," Walden said. "Ye know, I wanted to, er, I wanted to ask yer father for...well, I doona know if the Muggles do it this way but it's traditional to ask for, er..." and he looked down at the floor as he swallowed the last few words.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, my father was looking at you like you were some sort of...well...terrorist! I don't think we need to bother with you asking for my _hand_ now, do we?" She started pacing. "Sod it all!" she finally said, her face red. "Stupid Cheering Charm's wearing off too! I suppose I can't do anything right today!" She tossed her whisky glass to the floor. "Sod it!"

"Lass, sit down," Walden said. "I'll get ye some more whisky...or maybe some tea might be better."

"I don't want you to get me anything! You've done enough!" She grabbed her beaded bag and wand from the bedside table. "I'm going back to Britain tomorrow. I'm sorry. I have to be alone for a while...I'm going to go and get my own room."

"But, lass, ye were supposed to come back on the Portkey with all of us," Walden said. "Evan was looking forward to it."

"I'm sorry...tell him I'm sorry." She started to walk toward the door, but paused before opening it.

"Ye shouldna be alone right now, lassie," Walden said. "I know what it's like to have yer parents disappointed." He paused, and said quietly, "Please stay here with me, I willna bother ye at all, just put up a Silencing Charm and ye can yell as much as ye want, and I'll get ye more whisky, too." He stood up and walked over to her and took her hands in his and led her back over to the chair. "Sit here and I'll go get it, I'll be back, ye can start yellin' while I'm gone."

By the time he returned, she'd calmed down somewhat. Walden poured them both fresh drinks and he reclined on the bed, staring at the fireplace, as he began to speak in a low voice.

"I told ye about how they took us straight to Azkaban after the Department of Mysteries," he began. "Was in there for a year. About a week after I got there, Diggory, me Ministry supervisor, visited and he looked at me as if I were a piece of rubbish he'd got stuck on his boots, shoved a letter across the table at me and said I was removed from me post. Got up and left straightaway after that. I'd expected that, I mean, we'd broken about a hundred rules going down there, I was the one who'd let everyone in through the official entrance since I worked at the Ministry, that was in the letter, too. I tore it up after he left and tossed it in the...well, the bucket we used for a loo." He paused to take a drink. "I didna think it was going to bother me so much, I mean, well, I had other things to occupy me mind at that point, I had been living at the Manor in a guest room, hadn't gone home for months. But then the verra next day me Da visited and that was worse. He had got the guards to get me clothes and property out and he brought it in the room with him, and he took me Laird's ring, and told me I was no longer his son and no longer the Laird, and he didna care if he ever saw me again. And he didna give me a chance to say anythin'. Mum came a week later and told me she was tryin' to talk to him, but it took years before we really spoke, it was after I'd been on house arrest for, I dunno, a year, I think. And it's never really been the same as it was..." and his voice drifted off.

"This isn't exactly helping, you know," Hermione finally said.

"I know ye're disappointed in yer parents but I was hopin' maybe ye'd see that it wasna so bad," Walden said. "Ye have a good job, everyone in our world thinks ye're a hero...of course, ye're spendin' time with a nasty old Death Eater, but nobody's perfect..."

Hermione giggled. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she finally said. "I suppose it was rather a shock for them, considering that the last news they had about our world looked pretty grim. I probably should have gone to talk to them alone, first, and tried to explain it to them."

"Probably," Walden echoed. "Shall I go down and get some food? "


	21. This Lonely View

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

The title of this chapter is taken from "Scar Tissue" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, for obvious reasons. The rest of the song doesn't quite match up, even though I had a chuckle about cat!Hermione in the bathroom stall after her failed Polyjuice experiment...anyway. Never mind!

I realized after I posted that I meant to give thanks to CeliaEquus for the idea of Hermione's parents living in a Queenslander house (seen in her story "Captive at Number 12" on ), although I did place them in a different city, I believe. Thanks! (and BTW, being a fan of rare pairings, obvs, I loved the Yaxley/Hermione pairing in that.)

And...an extra big Thank You to all reviewers-as always. Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 21 - This Lonely View**

After Walden returned with the food (2 magically-reduced trays worth, which Hermione obligingly restored to their original state), they spent a pleasant time tucking in and then capping off the meal with dessert and coffee.

"Do ye have that scar salve with ye, lass?" he abruptly asked, when he'd finally sat down his fork.

"Er...yes, I actually did bring it," Hermione responded. "Might have been nice if I'd remembered it before earlier today."

"Nothin' we can do about that now," he said. "Gonna go out with Heather and Melissa tomorrow after we get back-do ye mind watching Evan for a bit?"

"Not at all," she replied. Although she was slightly curious about his plans, she didn't ask, as she had already concluded that it was best to simply head back to Melbourne and not dwell on the day's failures...not to mention which she genuinely enjoyed Evan's company.

He stood up, used his wand to levitate the food trays toward the door, and then stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. Although by this point, Hermione was used to the sight of a partially- (or less) clothed Walden, she nonetheless gave an appreciative gasp and gawked at him a bit. He chuckled. "Sorry, I really do, er, I mean I always have, er, liked kilts," she said, blushing a bit. It did not hurt that he was very muscular and fit. He'd explained that doing the hated chores every day for years while under house arrest had kept him in shape.

"Noticed that," he said, as he approached her. "So can ye get that salve now?" He held his left arm out to her. Since Voldemort's defeat, she had observed, in a rather clinical way, that the remains of the Dark Lord's Mark were different on each of his followers. Those who Walden had referred to as the "true believers" (and the only one she'd had on her docket was Mulciber), still sported very distinct Marks. The Carrows' Marks could hardly be distinguished from the way they'd always looked, and Mulciber's was rather similar to theirs. Draco Malfoy's Mark had almost completely disappeared the last time she'd seen it. Walden's was still outlined thinly in red. She'd applied the salve to it a couple of times at his request, but nothing seemed to have changed...and of course, her father, who had passed his detail-oriented nature down to his daughter, had seen it and known immediately what it was-or had been-thanks to his perusal of the _Daily Prophet_ and that Ministry pamphlet.

"Out, damned spot, out, I say," she muttered, as she applied the salve yet again to Walden's arm. He flinched, as he had at each prior application.

"Och..." he grunted, and took a deep breath. "What did ye say?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied.

"Can I borrow this when I'm out tomorrow?" he asked.

"You can have it," she said, as she sat the glass jar on the bedside table. "I was rather hoping I'd never have the need for it again." As he was still holding his arm out, waiting for the excess salve to absorb, she examined his Mark critically. "Doesn't look any different."

"Aye," he said. "Come here," he said, as he swung his other arm around her rapidly.

"I'm already here," she said.

"I mean _here_ ," he said, as he grasped her shoulders and pushed her down to her knees. "Suck me prick, I canna wait any more."

"But...is the door locked? I haven't done a Silencing Spell-"

"I'm gonna do one on ye with this wand," he said, as he lifted up his kilt to reveal his extremely hard cock.

"But...I need..."

"I need ta fuck ye soon, and if ye're going to keep talkin', I'll do _this_ instead," and he illustrated his last phrase by letting his kilt drop, lifting her up, laying her across the bed, reaching under her sundress to remove her underwear, and reaching down and burying his face between her legs in one very well-coordinated movement.

"Oh...oh yes..." Hermione gasped, as his tongue found its mark, and she shuddered into his grasp...and then writhed again and again, as he eagerly lapped at her.

After several minutes of his expert attentions, during which she was certain her head would explode from the pleasure, he grabbed her around the waist, turned her over, and took her roughly from behind, ecstatically growling as he slammed himself home.

When they lay together afterward, he confessed, "When ye touch me Mark, it's like I've drunk that potion, ye know, the one from the Revels."

"You didn't exactly hear me complaining; I just wanted to make sure, er, that the entire inn didn't hear us."

"The innkeep told me that the rooms already have charms in the walls," Walden said, with a wink. "Would ye like to test them out again?"

* * *

The next morning, they strolled to the Portkey Office in companionable, contented silence after a leisurely breakfast. The journey was uneventful, and before long, Hermione was seated on the garden bench in the Macnairs' backyard with Evan, sipping an IPA and reading out loud to him from _Adventures of the Golden Trio_. She annotated the text a bit with pithy comments for the boy's amusement.

"It says here that we were all very good students, and-well, all of us passed _most_ of our OWLs...those are Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, you'll take them in your fifth year-anyway, Harry wasn't a bad student, but Ron didn't pay attention in class and constantly skived off..."

Evan laughed. "Was Ron your boyfriend?"

Apparently all Macnairs were direct. "Well, he was, for a while. Not until after we were out of school, though, really. And he's not anymore."

"I know that, my dad's your boyfriend now, isn't he?"

"Well...yes, we're dating," Hermione said. "Are you all right with that?" She wondered who she was really addressing with that question...Evan, her parents, or even herself, as she glanced around at the lush yard. The barbecue grill loomed on the porch; Heather had removed the cover before she, Melissa, and Walden had left on their mystery errand, and promised that they'd be enjoying prawns on the barbie, a classic Australian dinner, that evening.

"Yes, are you going to marry him?" Evan asked.

"Er, well, we have discussed that, but, well, there are some things to consider..." Hermione said.

"That he was a bad guy, I know. My sissy told me all about that, but she said he'd paid his debt to society, and my Grandpa made him work at his house and he couldn't leave for ten years. And my godfather, Uncle Lucius, wrote me and told me how my dad was very sad after Voldemort killed my mum." Evan looked at her and bit his lip in the same way that Walden did when he was deep in thought. "I can't remember anything about my mum, sissy told me that she was very nice and smart, and I'd really like to have a mum."

The use of the Dark Lord's assumed name in casual conversation was, incredibly, the least surprising thing about Evan's recitation.

"I know you would. I miss my mum, too," Hermione said.

"But Auntie Melissa said that you just went to see her!" Evan replied.

"We did go to see her and my dad, but they...well...they're not happy with me right now," she said, as she closed the book. Clearly, story time had ended.

"Why not?" Evan asked, as he stood up. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure," she said, checking her skirt pocket to make sure her wand was well hidden. After they'd walked down the block a bit, she said, "I sent my parents here to keep them safe from...well...from the Death Eaters."

"That was what my dad was," Evan said, looking very serious.

"Yes, he was," she said, glancing around at the passing houses. The Macnairs lived in an pleasant older suburb featuring renovated frame houses and lots of trees. "And my parents found out about that, and they're not happy that I'm dating him, and they also weren't happy that I did a charm on them to modify their memories. And the charm somehow wore off, I'm not exactly sure how that happened..." and with that, her voice drifted off, as she made a mental note to begin formulating her plan for research about that.

"Your parents don't like my dad?" Evan said.

"I think it's more accurate to say they were intimidated by him," she said. "He clearly frightened them. They'd met Ron, you see, and my mum actually asked what had happened to him, in front of your dad. And that was a colossally bad idea."

"My sissy says that Dad used to get mad pretty easily and he could be mean," Evan replied.

"Well, I taught him some ways to deal with that, and while he left the room to use the loo, my father actually told me that he wouldn't stand for me being involved with such a scoundrel."

"What does "scoundrel" mean?"

"A bad guy, basically, although whenever I hear that word used, I always somehow think of pirates," Hermione said, with a small smile.

"I like pirates," Evan supplied, with a very large smile.

"And honestly, Ron is the one who's been more of a scoundrel for the last few years. Which I tried to tell them, but they weren't listening to me at that point, and we just decided to leave. I suppose I'll clear it up eventually, but your dad and I needed to get back here and help you all get ready to move."

"I'm excited about moving and about going to Hogwarts!" Evan exclaimed, as he kicked a small pebble out of their path. "My sissy asked me what House I wanted to be in and so did my Dad, and I'm not sure. What House do you think I should be in?"

"Well, the Hat will help you decide," Hermione said. "When I got there, I thought I'd want Ravenclaw, but the Hat convinced me that I'd be better off in Gryffindor. And I'm glad I went there in the end."

"Have you seen the sword?!" Evan said. "If I'm a Gryffindor, will I get to use it?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, I've seen the sword. It's very shiny and very beautiful. My friend Neville had hold of it last-"

"Yes, I know about that!" Evan said. "He cut off a snake's head with it! That's so cooooool!" _My, you really are your father's son_ , Hermione thought, but she decided not to voice that.

"He did indeed," Hermione said. "And after that, the goblins of Gringotts came and took the sword back, to keep it safe, but they promised us that if a true Gryffindor really needed it, that they wouldn't stand in the way." And that had been an extremely uncomfortable conversation. The Trio may have been considered Golden by a majority of the wizarding world, but the goblins clearly remained annoyed about the dragon-assisted bank heist. She kept her wizarding Galleons with them, to keep the peace, but she also quietly maintained a mutual fund and a flexible cash ISA at Barclays.

Hermione kept Evan enthralled with the story of the dragon ride out of Gringotts on their walk back to the house, and then allowed him to beat her in two games of wizard's chess. She made grilled cheese sandwiches for them, and they ate outside on the patio as the summer haze surrounded them. They'd just gotten through another chapter of the book, back on the garden bench, when Walden appeared in the back door.

"Lass, we're back! Evan, come look!" Walden seemed rather uncharacteristically giddy about something; he was practically jumping up and down. Hermione glimpsed Melissa and Heather in the doorway behind him, wide smiles on their faces. "Melissa, would ye toss me one of those lagers? Come on, come up here," he said, as he plucked the Foster's oil can out of the air above his head. After everyone had collected drinks (Hermione opted for water) and noisily sat themselves around the patio table, Walden, Heather and Melissa all extended their left arms.

On each forearm, covered by what appeared to be clingfilm, was a large, elaborate shaded blackwork tattoo. Walden explained that it was the Macfarlane clan crest, a stylized belt surrounding a bearded, muscular warrior hefting a sword in one hand, and his other resting on a crown, with the words "THIS I'LL DEFEND" inscribed at the top.

"It hurt like the devil," Walden admitted. "The salve helped. Wish we'd gone to do this when we first got here."

"He looks a bit like you," Hermione said, as she examined the stylized swordsman.

"Can I get one?!" Evan asked.

"Not until ye're older, son, but the artist made a temporary one for ye," Walden said, and he reached in his sporran and brought out a somewhat smaller paper rendition of the design, which he then proceeded to apply to Evan's arm. Evan got up and ran around the backyard, yelling "ARRRRRR MATEY" at the top of his lungs, to general amusement.

After Melissa and Heather went back into the house to retrieve the barbecue fixings, Walden turned to Hermione. "I know ye feel like ye doona have a family right now, but ye'll always be welcome in mine, nae matter what happens," and he handed her another temporary tattoo.


	22. Purple Teardrops

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

cochran4444-yes, the crest tattoo was meant to cover up the Dark Mark...but, it's not completely gone...yet! As for the rest, there will be an explanation eventually :)

flames4thought-thank you, I have been wanting to write an older Evan since completing my original story trilogy (its first iteration was 2003!)

The title of this chapter is taken from Paparazzi by Lady Gaga. (It also reminds me a bit of Prince...RIP.)

And...an extra big Thank You to all readers and reviewers-as always. Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 22 - Purple Teardrops**

The next two days were filled with packing, giveaways to charity, transfers to storage, and other moving minutiae. Of course, the myriad charms available to shrink, lighten and transform objects made the task somewhat less burdensome, but it was still a disruption in routine.

Hermione paused in the midst of arranging several stacks of books to take a drink of water. Ever since she'd done the charm on her parents and then she, Ron and Harry had spent a year on the run from Voldemort's forces, she'd kept her life as simple and as streamlined as possible...even to the point that she still used the evening bag she'd charmed in 1997 whenever she needed to travel. She wondered if she'd ever settle down, and realized that only in the last few weeks had it occurred to her that there could be an alternative to her prosaic existence.

Was it possible that she was actually considering a future with Walden? Would she want to be a mother to Evan? She'd already begun mentally reciting the possible repercussions to her Ministry career were she to make her relationship with Walden public, or permanent. Most likely, she would not get fired, _per se_ , but she'd seen Ministry careers very obviously move to the 'slow track' due to changing political climates or personal opinions or actions...as in the cases of Arthur Weasley and Bartemius Crouch. Further, it was not without precedent that she might undergo an inquiry, because Walden had been her assigned client.

 _"Good afternoon, lass, I'm here for me final interview," Mr. Macnair said, as he bowed politely at her and sat down in the only available chair in her tiny office. Files balanced precariously on every surface, but to Hermione's credit, she knew the precise location of every required piece of parchment._

 _Dawlish, the Auror who'd escorted Macnair to her office, scowled, nodded abruptly at Hermione, and slammed the door on his way out._

 _"Mr. Macnair, it's a pleasure to see you; I know we'll both be glad when this is finished," Hermione responded, as she Summoned her quill. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but we'll have to do this here rather than in the interview room. Percy's still working on his interview with Mr. Thicknesse; I thought he'd be completed by now, but apparently not." She made a quick note, then asked, "Er, would you like some tea? I was about to go and get some; it's been a rather long afternoon."_

 _"Aye, but I'm nae permitted to go with ye to the cafe unless we have an escort."_

 _"That's not a problem, I'll get one of the other Aurors to help us, no point in bothering Dawlish again," she said, as she tapped a sheet of parchment with her wand; it obligingly folded itself into a paper airplane and hovered in the air. Her second wand wave opened the door so that the plane could zoom off to its destination._

 _"Thank ye, I appreciate that," Macnair said, and he gave her a very small smile..._

...and, come to think of it, she recalled that prior to that particular day, he'd always very properly referred to her as "Miss Granger," but after the rather pleasant chat they'd had in the cafe-looming Auror and handcuffs notwithstanding-he'd started calling her 'lass', which she'd never corrected, and his voice was always different when he was speaking privately with her. She wondered if that had been the day he'd referred to, when he knew she was "in his heart." After that, he would occasionally make witty remarks or even tell jokes-and that had all culminated in the evening when they'd gone to get drinks together, and laughed with each other like old friends. And she realized that even before that, she'd begun to feel very relaxed with him...had she fallen for him during that time? She thought not, but she'd certainly had some fondness for him, she knew that, or else she would have never considered having a drink with him, much less what had happened afterward.

And was she in love with him now? She felt very comfortable with him, much more comfortable than she'd ever imagined she'd feel with anyone who'd been allied with the Dark. Clearly, he'd renounced that alliance, and whether it had been a gradual renunciation or a sudden realization after his wife had been murdered in front of him, he didn't appear to be planning to locate a new evil overlord to follow...in fact, he'd made a very bold statement that he was primarily concerned with his family. She'd had him apply the temporary tattoo to her upper arm the previous evening while they were up late talking in bed; it had obviously touched him, so much so that they'd spent a very pleasant half-hour simply kissing and caressing each other before things got more heated.

She waved her wand in the direction of the sorted books, shrinking them down, then moving the entire pile to a box, which would also be shrunk. There was now only one more bookcase to go, and just as she started to assess it, Walden walked in.

"They're just about done everywhere else, looks like ye're close here," he said, glancing around the empty room.

Apropos of nothing, she walked over and kissed him.

"No' that I'm complainin', but what was that for?"

"Oh, no reason," she said, and made quick work of the rest of the books.

"Looks like we're goin' out for food tonight since everything's packed," Walden said. "Heather and Melissa suggested that we all spend the night at the Wombat and I like that idea, I can go to the tobacco shop again, if ye dinna mind?"

"I don't mind, I'd like to get some reading in, actually."

"I willna stay out too late," Walden replied.

"You don't have to check in with me, you know," Hermione said, as she stashed her wand in its holster.

"I doona want ye to think I was ignorin' ye," he replied.

"I certainly don't think that-I've been having a very good time...well, apart from the business with my parents, but I'm not going to worry about that right now. Your daughter is a great hostess, and I love...er, I loved spending time with Evan..." she paused a bit, and then decided to forge on ahead with the truth. "I love him, he's a very good boy."

He approached her then, and asked, in a low voice, "And do ye love me at all, lass?"

"I do, I think," Hermione said. "I didn't expect to."

"I want ye in my life," he said. "When we go back, I want ye to stay with me." He turned and glanced around. "I need to tell ye somethin', will ye go for a walk with me? The others are out the back, havin' a drink," and he held his wand to his throat and said, "We're goin' for a walk, be back shortly." With a flick of his wand, the Thestral galloped away through the window.

"Glad that worked," he said.

"What's your Patronus memory?" Hermione asked, and then said, "No, wait, that's personal, you don't have to tell me..."

"It's the day I knew I loved ye, when I came to yer Ministry office and ye invited me for tea," Walden said, as he took her arm and escorted her down the empty hallway and then through the deserted front room.

"Odd, I was just thinking about that day," she replied, as they walked out the front door and turned onto the sidewalk. The day was warm and hazy and the street was quiet, except for the constant background drone of cicadas.

"I hope ye won't think I'm a dobber but I wanted to kiss ye that day...well, more than that really."

"That must be why you kept looking at me so oddly," Hermione mused, as she slipped her hand into his.

"Och, I wanted to bend ye over yer desk but I suspect they would have shipped me back to Azkaban," Walden said, chuckling.

"I doubt Dawlish would have been amused."

They walked in silence for a little while, enjoying the sights and sounds of summer, and then Walden began, "Er, before I met me wife, me second one, that is, Rowan, I...when I went ta the Revels...there was someone who I always met there, who chose me as her consort. It wasna me first wife, she stopped going after she moved to the London house, after me children were in school..." He paused, and glanced at Hermione.

"I didn't presume that you had been celibate for all those years, you know. I listened to hours of that testimony."

"It was me friend, Lucinda, she was married ta Avery, and he's a right foul git," Walden said. "We didna always, ye know, participate in the revels. We played a lot of wizard's chess, actually, she mostly beat me," and he chuckled. "Guess I like smart lasses, aye?"

"I'm not that good at chess, though," Hermione said.

"Guess we should keep playin', then, Evan said he wanted to learn some more strategy...anyway, after Rowan was killed, Lucius and I talked, and he decided to help Lucinda by sending her ta his house in America. By then, they were lovers...I didna find that out until later...but it didna matter, I stopped seein' her when I fell for Rowan."

Hermione could not help the smile that crossed her face at his words. "You didn't string her along, then?"

"Nay, wouldna have been fair ta her," he said. "If I hadna met Rowan, I might have stayed with her...but I am glad she got away from Avery though." He paused in his recollections as they crossed the street. "Anyway, she wrote ta me, she'd read in the _Prophet_ that the trials were over, wanted me ta come visit her, said she's never forgotten about me...but, me lass, I wrote her, and I told her I'd met someone. I got her owl that day back at the lodge, the time ye ran off for a bit, but I was hopin' ye'd come back. Nae even sure why I'm tellin' ye this, really." He looked down at the ground. Hermione heard the flutter of wings and observed two ravens landing on the grass next to the sidewalk.

"It's not as if you don't know my entire romantic history-well, the _Witch Weekly_ version, that is," Hermione said, "Which is very far from accurate."

"I guess I'm tellin' ye because I want ye ta know I'm nae like that Weasley, I willna play with yer heart. They said I was cruel in the trials, I know ye heard that bit. And I can be, when I'm fightin' and huntin'. I canna change that."

"I heard that and a lot more, and I understand," Hermione said. "But you've not been cruel to me."

* * *

Three hours later, the extended Macnair family, plus Hermione, sat around a large table in the back of the Slender Wombat, enjoying supper. All but Walden and Evan, who appeared to be in a competition to see which one could devour their steak faster, had opted for prawns. Walden headed over to the tobacco shop after he was done eating and enjoyed more convivial fellowship (and several beers), while everyone else headed upstairs to rest up for the next morning's journey. Hermione had just doused the lights when Walden returned, a bit more redolent of smoke than she would have preferred, but she was too tired to quibble about it.

The Portkey return journey turned out to be much more uneventful than their arrival. Stella, the functionary who'd taken issue with Walden when they'd arrived was still there, but appeared mollified by the fact that he'd brought his very respectable family with him, so all she said was a cheery "Gidday," before escorting them to their seats around the Portkey.

Evan, Walden, and Heather appeared to relish their journey. Melissa and Hermione grimaced at each other and commiserated during the layover in Lhasa; both refused yak wraps. Walden had to talk Evan out of a beer by telling him that he could have some with his grandfather at the castle.

By the time they landed at the Portkey Office in London, emotions were running high. Evan was jumping around, asking rapid-fire questions to anyone who would answer. Hermione was calm, thanks to the Muggle travel sickness remedy she'd taken (and surreptitiously slipped to Melissa). Heather and Walden were chattering away about making renovations to the lodge. The recovery lounge (which they were escorted to _en masse_ ) was rather similar to its Australian cousin, but was, of course, decorated with large pictures of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and the interiors of both St. Mungo's and the Ministry. Hermione took Evan around the room and gave him a _de facto_ tour.

Once the hour was up, they were escorted out of the lounge and directly into a large crowd of reporters-multiple flashbulbs went offand Evan immediately stepped behind his father.

"Miss Granger! Can you tell us how you felt when you heard about Mr. Weasley's impending nuptials? Are you heart-broken?"

"What the bloody hell?" Hermione muttered to Walden.

"Och, I forgot ta tell ye about that, lass...let's get home and I'll explain."

"No comment!" Melissa and Heather had linked arms and were shoving through the crowd like a pair of human Bludgers. "Let us through! We've just gotten back from Australia!" One particularly persistent reporter shoved his parchment and Quick-Quotes quill at the pair of them, and Melissa raised her wand and pointed it in his direction. "Oi, mate, back off there!"

Just then, a voice sounded a bit further down the hall, "I say, leave them alone!" The crowd of reporters turned as one and dashed toward the Auror. "Mr. Potter! Can you give us a quote about Mr. Weasley's engagement? Are you going to be best man?"

Ginny Potter, who'd been standing next to Harry, appeared next to Hermione. "Quick, tell me where you're going and I'll Disapparate the lot of you!"

"Macnair Lodge!" Hermione shouted, as the group all clasped hands.


	23. Well-Versed in Etiquette

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

I've had an interesting few weeks here, in the not-so-good sense, but I'm back on track now. Sorry for the delay. This chapter's title is taken from "Killer Queen," by Queen.

And...an extra big Thank You to all readers and reviewers-as always. Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 23 - Well-Versed in Etiquette**

Within a very short time after the group's arrival, Ginny, Hermione and Walden were seated in the lodge's kitchen enjoying tea and toast, courtesy of Binkus. Evan, however, was charmed by the house-elf and immediately got up and ran after him for a tour of the upstairs, and Heather and Melissa headed after him to see about stowing some of their belongings.

"Thank ye, Mrs. Potter," Walden said, to Ginny, after a short silence.

"Call me Ginny," she said. "And it was nothing. We're used to those reporters, they hang round our London house. They did follow Harry to his work until he got a private office with a Floo connection. Pests, the lot of them!" She glanced out the window. "Er, I thought Harry said you lived in a castle, or something?"

"Me parents live there," Walden said. After he looked around to ensure that Evan hadn't returned, he added, "I was on house arrest there for the last few years. This is me house, I've come back to live here because there's more room for me family."

"Er, Ginny, before we continue, what's this about Ron's wedding?" Hermione blurted. "And why didn't _you_ tell me about it?" She addressed this last to Walden.

Both started to answer her at once, to general hilarity. Finally, Ginny began the story.

"Well, the other morning after that rather disastrous dinner down Knockturn, Ron apparently went to the Burrow in the middle of the night because we weren't being _nice_ to him, or so he said..." and she winked at Hermione. "...anyway, these two very intimidating wizards showed up during brunch...I think one of them was your father?" She nodded in Walden's direction.

"Aye, and the other one was me clan chief...me cousin," he said. "Had a letter about it and then me Da told me, and, well, there's been a lot goin' on, so I forgot to tell ye," and he looked at Hermione.

"Did you know about it that night?" Hermione said.

"Aye, but I was more concerned with the little plonker insultin' ye," Walden said. "Nae like he could get out of what was comin' to him anyway."

"The long and short of it is that Ron got that horrible Fiona preggers, and your cousin was there to draw up the betrothal contract," Ginny said. "Er, sorry, Fiona's your cousin, too, right?" she said to Walden. "I'm sorry, but she made a pretty bad impression on my entire family."

"She's been doing that with me family for years, lass," Walden said. "This will be a relief ta all of us."

"It does rather solve more than one problem," Ginny said, looking significantly at Hermione, as she stood up. "Thank you for the hospitality, but, er-" but her sentence was interrupted by Lucius Malfoy's head appearing in the fireplace.

"I say, brother, why didn't you ask me to meet you at the Ministry?" He glanced around the room through the Floo connection. "Welcome home, my dear," he said to Hermione, as he nodded to her. "And good afternoon to you, Mrs. Potter," he added, rather more formally, in Ginny's direction. "May I come in, Walden?"

"Nae like I could really stop ye," Walden muttered. At that, Ginny sat back down and nudged Hermione, while saying to her, quietly, "I don't want to miss this. Mum can handle things a while longer." Hermione rolled her eyes as Lucius stepped through the fireplace and flicked his wand over his robes to remove the ashes. Unfortunately, his wand chose that moment to malfunction, and his outer robes disintegrated into a circular pile of ash. It turned out he was wearing something rather like a green Union suit underneath, complete with bum flap.

"I bloody well hate this accursed stick!" Lucius shouted. Ginny attempted not to giggle, as Walden and Hermione disappeared the mess. Binkus trotted in, snapped his fingers, and produced a Macfarlane tartan for Lucius to wear.

"I have no idea how to wear this...garment," Lucius drawled, as he held the tartan up, a disapproving look on his face.

"Rather nae see ye rollin' on me floor," Walden said, with a chuckle. "Binkus, would ye assist?" Within minutes, Lucius was kilted and looked completely uncomfortable.

"And I'm going to have to wear one of these at that blasted wedding, aren't I?" he said.

"Aye, all the wizards have ta, unless ye want to answer to me Da," Walden said, still chuckling.

"I was hoping to not speak to him, beyond a simple greeting, if I can help it," Lucius replied, as he approached Hermione and Ginny. "My dear," he said, bowing to Hermione, and then kissing her hand. "Mrs. Potter," he added, with a bow in her direction. After this, he sat down gingerly at the table, and Binkus brought him tea.

"So, er, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny began, after she'd regained her composure. "I presume that's one of the restricted wands?"

"It is," Lucius replied, in a clipped manner. "As you likely already know, I'm required to use it for the next few years. Normally it's adequate for my needs," he sniffed.

"Well, when my brother received that Ministry contract, he did attempt to ensure that everyday spells would work, up to the parameters he was given..." Ginny trailed off.

"So George did make those wands! I thought they rather looked familiar," Hermione interjected.

"Oh, yes; they were going to use an American wandmaker but George's bid was more competitive," Ginny said.

"I am certain it was," Lucius growled.

"Ta answer yer question, Lucius," Walden stated, after a short, uncomfortable silence, "I didna ask ye ta meet us at the Ministry because I wasna sure exactly what time we'd be in, and I didna want things turning ta a spectacle."

"Hmph," Lucius answered, and sipped at his tea.

"It's fine, Mr. Macnair, I had come in to have lunch with Harry, anyway." Ginny said.

"So...er, when and where is, er, Ron's wedding?" Hermione asked.

"New Year's Day, and...well, apparently it's at your father's castle?" Ginny asked, with a glance in Walden's direction.

"Aye," Walden said.

"I've never quite understood why your father refers to that as a castle, it's really a hall house," Lucius said.

"Always been called that," Walden said, as he reached for the sugar bowl.

"I suppose standards are different up here," Lucius sniffed, as he examined the plaid. "This is terribly scratchy, how on earth do you stand wearing it?"

"Never thought it was scratchy," Walden replied. "But ye're nae supposed to wear yer pajamas under it."

Ginny was pretending to focus on her tea things, but Hermione caught her watching the interplay between the two wizards, a small smirk on her face.

"These bloody well aren't my pajamas," Lucius snapped. "It's cold up here! I always wore these to school."

"I remember," Walden said. "We used to laugh at it in Slytherin behind yer back, especially that trap-door part," and he addressed this last directly to Ginny, who began spluttering.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione said. "You two sound like an old married couple, can you give it a rest?"

With that last comment, both Walden and Lucius turned bright red, and Ginny stood up, unsuccessfully containing her laughter. "Pardon, Mr. Macnair, can you, er, tell me where your loo is?"

"It's down the hall to your right," Hermione gestured as she turned to Ginny, as Walden was presently looking as if he never wanted to speak again.

"Really, Walden, must you constantly antagonize me?" Lucius said, as soon as Ginny departed.

"Aye," Walden grunted.

"Well, I can see that it was a mistake for me to attempt any sort of politeness today-drop by the Manor when you've gotten over whatever it is that's stuck up your arse, why don't you? " He turned to Hermione. "Do feel free to visit the library any time, my dear, and give Mrs. Potter my regards," he added, in a much politer tone.

"Certainly," Hermione said.

"Thought he'd never leave," Walden said, after Lucius had stepped through. "Hope he doesna destroy me tartan. He shouldna be wearin' it anyway, Da will have conniptions."

"It's really just for the family, correct?" Hermione asked.

"Aye, although I'd like ye ta wear it as well," Walden said. "As me guest, I mean."

"Well, I suppose if that's proper," Hermione replied, warily.

"I told ye I consider ye part of me family," Walden replied, as he started buttering his fifth piece of toast. "Would like ta make that formal but I can wait."

"Er..." Hermione began, as Ginny returned to the room.

"Oh, he's left, pity that," Ginny said, smirking.

"Dinna fash, he never stays away long enough for anyone to properly miss him," Walden said, after he sat down his toast. Ginny giggled.

"I thought I heard his wife was in France?"

"Aye, she is. She'll come to the weddin' ta make things look proper, though."

"Well, my dad will just love that, I'll have to warn him. I can't say I've ever really forgiven him for that diary business," Ginny said, looking significantly at Hermione.

"He said, during the trials, that it was because he didn't get along with your dad, and it wasn't personal," Hermione reminded Ginny.

"Well, it ended up being personal all the same," Ginny said, raising her eyebrows.

"Indeed," Hermione said.

"It was because Lucius always, er, liked yer da, in school," Walden said, almost too quietly.

"Liked him?" Ginny said. "I mean to say-they got in that fight at Flourish and Blotts, it didn't look as if they were friendly, and Dad was always complaining about him-liked him how?"

"Ye know," Walden said, and he refused to comment further.

"Liked him?" Ginny spluttered again, and turned to Hermione. "Does he mean..."

"Well, Lucius is a bit...er...opportunistic, shall we say," Hermione clarified.

"Ah! Well. I, er, suppose that...does explain things," Ginny said. "I think I'll keep that bit to myself, though, when I warn my dad that Lucius will be at the happy occasion," and she giggled a bit at the end.

"It's certainly going to be a happy occasion for me," Hermione said.

"Very much of a relief for us all," Ginny riposted, sounding very much like her twin brothers. "And on that note, I really should be getting back. I do thank you, Mr. Macnair, for the tea," and she curtsied. Hermione realized, as she watched the small social ritual, that she still had an awful lot to learn about pureblood manners.

"Ye're welcome, Mrs. Potter," Walden said, after he stood up and bowed in her direction.

"Bring Evan by the Burrow, Hermione, in a few days?" Ginny added, before she turned to Walden and asked, "Do you need to lower the wards?"

"Left 'em down," Walden said.

"Cheers," Ginny said, and Disapparated.


	24. There's Always Something Happening

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

For new folks, please, be aware that the awesome Joe Manganiello (from True Blood, One Tree Hill and the Magic Mike films) is my fancast for Walden Macnair-*not* the guy from the HP films.

This chapter's title is from "Our House" by Madness.

And...an extra big Thank You to all readers and reviewers-as always. Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 24 - There's Always Something Happening And It's Usually Quite Loud**

The weeks leading up to Ron's wedding were relatively peaceful for the residents of Macnair Lodge, although not particularly quiet. Evan loved his room with the dragon his Mum had painted on the wall. He also loved his Dad, and everything about Scotland-even the rainy and cold weather was a novelty to him, and he looked forward to a snowy Christmas. Heather began her apprenticeship under Garrick Ollivander, who was very much looking forward to retirement, while Melissa began looking into employment options in the British Isles, as well as a possible Hogsmeade residence.

However, Hermione's mental state was anything but peaceful. Although she was happy that The Ron Situation was finally going to be resolved, she spent hours internally debating the status of her position at the Ministry...especially after she abruptly decided, one morning after she and Walden spent a lovely relaxing morning in bed, to let her London flat go. Later that same day, after Melissa, Heather and Evan returned from their weekend at the castle, Melissa and Hermione Disapparated to London and packed up her flat, before heading over for an impromptu Gryffindor alumni drinks party at Harry and Ginny's.

She knew that if she applied to the Floo Regulation Panel for a connection from the lodge to the Ministry, that word would get around quickly...and of course, given Walden's past associations, she wasn't even sure that it would be permitted.

Thus, she spent a rather long time during the week prior to Christmas in the trophy room sitting on her relocated couch, drinking countless cups of tea, and pondering her options. The day she went to sign the lease-breakage agreement, she gave her telly and cellular phone away to the aspiring actor who lived in the flat down the hall from her. He'd been extremely surprised, but very grateful, and had also been curious about where exactly in Scotland she was moving-so much so that she'd briefly flirted with just telling him the whole story and then Obliviating him after. But she was loath to do that after the issue with the charm on her parents, so she muttered something about first going abroad to do charity work, then, in case he was tempted to follow her, took the Tube to Charing Cross and used the Leaky Cauldron's Floo to get to Hogsmeade.

With the release of those two items of electronica, she felt her connection to the Muggle world, which had been tenuous ever since she passed through the barrier at Platform 9 3/4, lessen even further. This was not necessarily a bad thing, as it assisted her in essentially grieving the loss of her parents (although she held out hope that perhaps, one day, they might change their opinions).

* * *

There was little time to be alone during Christmas Day and Boxing Day, though, as they were spent at the castle with the extended Macnair family, as well as a host of Macfarlane cousins who were in the midst of wedding preparations. It seemed that having a wedding right after Hogmanay was being viewed as an excuse to make the already overblown New Year's celebrations even more raucous.

The family gift exchange was held in the library; the tree was decorated half in green and silver and half in red and gold. Hermione gifted Walden with a beautiful obsidian raven sculpture that she'd found at the Tate Gallery gift shop, while he gave her a piece of heirloom jewelry-a large gold knotwork necklace. Quidditch jerseys for their favorite team, Puddlemere United, were welcomed with enthusiasm by Melissa and Heather, and Gavin and Elspeth were appreciative of the boxed selection of Australian wines that everyone had chipped in on. Finally, Hermione had also located a small replica of the Gryffindor sword at a new souvenir shop in Diagon Alley, and Evan was thrilled with his present-as was Gavin.

"I hope this means ye'll be wearin' the red and gold when ye get to Hogwarts, Evan!" Gavin loudly declaimed, over his fifth mug of hot spiked butterbeer. Elspeth and Walden glanced at each other and rolled their eyes, while Hermione beamed.

"Yes, Grandpa, I want to be in Gryffindor like Hermione and Auntie Melissa!" Evan said. "And Neville, and Harry, and Ron!" The previous week, Evan had gotten to meet the latter three wizards at Ron's hastily-planned engagement party at the Burrow, which Walden had not attended. It turned out that Evan and Mrs. Weasley got along just fine-so much so that he was sporting a hand-made maroon sweater with a dragon on the front, which had arrived that morning by owl post. Hermione had given Ron a perfunctory hug and wished him well; Ron seemed as if he were a million miles away, but was nominally polite.

"Och, son, what's wrong with Slytherin?" Walden said. "I was there, and your Sissy, and Grandma, and your Uncle Lucius, too."

"I want to use the sword if I need to, to protect us from bad wizards!" Evan said, as he brandished the replica sword over his head.

"There ye have it, son," Gavin said. "I knew everything would turn out all right," he added, turning to Walden and asking him, quietly "Is the Sassenach comin' to the weddin'?"

"I didna see any way out of invitin' him," Walden said, with a frown.

"Ye know why I hold a grudge, but he was helpful with gettin' Heather and Evan away safely. I suppose I can be gracious for a day. But ye'll make sure he's dressed proper, then? He can wear the Black Watch."

"Aye, that's what I was gonna tell him," Walden said, as he sipped at his single-malt and stared into the library fireplace. Life, at that very moment, was good.

* * *

Ron's wedding day dawned bright, if crisp and cold as per usual in the Highlands. The wedding planners had anticipated this, though. The marquee was heated and a covered walkway led from the front of the castle, as well as from the Apparition point at the edge of the grounds.

Walden, Hermione, Heather, Melissa and Evan had opted to stay at the lodge the night before the ceremony, as none of them were in the wedding party. Hermione was up first and assisted Evan in putting on his kilt, which he predictably thought was "super cool." Walden explained to him that since this was a modern wedding, his replica Gryffindor sword was not appropriate to wear as an accessory. He then pouted a bit until Walden presented him with a family heirloom skean dubh to wear in his kilt hose.

Hermione wore a long maroon dress with a Macfarlane sash, and Walden pinned a clan badge on her, his hand shaking almost imperceptibly as he did so, and he kissed her briefly, as Heather and Melissa had just walked in, resplendent in Bonnie Prince Charlie jackets and kilts. Walden had retrieved his (undamaged and spotlessly cleaned) plaid from Lucius, and was wearing a great kilt with a 18th century style jacket.

Just when the group was preparing to Apparate, Lucius fire-called; he had figured it would be best if the Malfoys and Macnairs arrived together, and so that was how Hermione found herself between Walden and Lucius yet again, as their party, accompanied by not only Narcissa, but Draco, arrived at the castle. Both Draco and Lucius were properly dressed in Black Watch kilts and Sheriffmuir doublets.

Hermione had a brief moment of indecision as the usher (a gangly Macfarlane cousin, whose kilt was a bit too short) asked her on what side she'd like to sit for the proceedings, but Walden glared at him and led her down the aisle to a block of seats in the midst of the bride's side. She nodded and waved to the multitude of Hogwarts friends and Weasleys on the groom's side before she sat down between Walden and Evan.

The wedding ceremony and the bride were both beautiful, but Ron looked an awful lot as if he'd been given a surfeit of Calming Draught and put under the Imperius Curse besides. His kilt was also just a bit too short, which revealed the fact that he had knobby knees. (Hermione had to fake a cough to cover up her giggling.) Molly Weasley was teary-eyed; her annoyance at Ron's behavior had clearly been trumped by the imminent arrival of another Weasley grandchild. There was a round of applause as the bride and groom kissed, as well as one anonymous wag stage-whispering that "she doesn't look a bit up the duff!"

As everyone stood, the chairs were magically whisked away; Hermione was reminded, abruptly, of Bill and Fleur's wedding and wondered if either Walden or Lucius had been among the Death Eater raiding party who'd Apparated into those festivities; figuring that was a topic of conversation best left alone for the present, she took Walden's arm when he proffered it and allowed herself to be led to their table.

The Macnair and Malfoy group took up nearly an entire table; the extra chairs were filled with Ron's former co-workers, Aurors Proudfoot and Corner, neither of whom looked overly pleased with the seating arrangements. Hermione took a couple of glasses of champagne from a roving house-elf server, but Walden opted for single-malt; he was clearly quite uncomfortable at their table location, which was forcing him to sit with his back to a large portion of the crowd. When nobody was looking, Hermione slipped him a Calming Draught from her beaded bag (which she'd returned to its non-extended state for the occasion).

Draco was exceedingly polite, yet distant. After the light luncheon was served, he made his excuses and headed off into the crowd to mingle (and most likely network). Narcissa was cordial, and true to Walden's prediction, she stuck by Lucius, giving everyone who was not aware of the truth the impression that they were still a happily married couple.

After the luncheon was over and the cake and tea was served, Hermione expected there would be dancing, but instead, toasts to the bride and groom began. Molly Weasley came to the table and whisked Evan away-apparently, there would be some children's activities to stave off boredom and/or acting out.

Harry, as best man, made a light, humorous speech, referencing many of the Trio's exploits during their school days. Arthur Weasley spoke, then the Macfarlane clan chief, then Fiona's mum, then some of her friends...and Hermione was really attempting to pay attention, but all the excitement of the past few months had started to catch up with her. She'd also not eaten a lot of her lunch and left half her cake behind, and had drank numerous glasses of champagne, too many to even recall the number. Thus she found herself staring, glassy-eyed, at the flower and candle arrangement at the center of the table, wishing that she'd gone off with Evan to see what the children's activities were...or, at the very least, that there was some strong coffee being served, rather than tea.

After the last speaker (Fiona's great-aunt) thankfully finished her speech, for some reason, bagpipes started playing, and there was a lot of murmuring...and she wasn't sure why, until Lucius reached over and tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, "Miss Granger?" She looked at him-he gave her a very small smile and a nod.

She hadn't even noticed that Walden had vacated the chair next to her, but he was kneeling at her side, and the Macfarlane clan chief, as well as Gavin and Elspeth were standing behind him. The pipers stood at a short distance behind them, playing a tune that sounded vaguely familiar, and after they finished, Walden was speaking to her, saying that he'd been inspired by all the good feelings and love that he'd seen at the wedding today, and that he was even more heartened that former adversaries were socializing, and that the wizarding world was healing, and that he would be extremely honored if she would become his wife. He was holding up a ring in a small box.

Hermione took one look at the ring and promptly fainted.


	25. Blood of Our Blood, Spirit of Our Spirit

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

An extra big Thank You to all readers and reviewers-as always; especially to the reviewer who left one in Portuguese, thus ensuring a minimum of spoilers for those reading in English :)

The title of this chapter is taken from a song by a really horrible rock group. Trust me when I say it's appropriate.

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 25 - Blood of Our Blood, Spirit of Our Spirit**

 _Hermione took one look at the ring and promptly fainted._

There was an immediate hubbub from nearly all onlookers (except for Ron, who at this point in the proceedings was looking as if he'd received multiple Confundus Charms). Walden tossed the ring box quickly onto the table and caught Hermione in his arms before she fell to the marquee floor. Molly Weasley, who'd been escorting the children back to the festivities, came running over immediately, as did Poppy Pomfrey, who'd accompanied Minerva McGonagall to the wedding. Gavin, Elspeth and Hamish ensured that nobody crowded in, and one of the pipers offered up his flask to Walden, saying "Mayhap yer lass could use this!"

After Hermione had been propped up on two chairs, Poppy performed Rennervate. Hermione stirred, weakly, and looked up.

"Madam Pomfrey? I'm not in the Hospital Wing...am I?"

"No, you're at Ron Weasley's wedding," Poppy said. "And you just had a very great...er, surprise."

"As did we all," Minerva interjected.

"Did you just say Ron's wedding?" Hermione rubbed her eyes and looked down at her dress, which was obviously neither bridal nor white. "Oh, that's a relief."

"Are ye all right, lass?" Walden asked, getting down on one knee once again, and taking Hermione's hand.

"I...er, think so," she replied. "What happened?"

"I proposed to ye and ye fainted," Walden stated, in his usual blunt manner.

"Oh..." Hermione said. "Did I, er, had I given you an answer before that?"

"No' yet," Walden said. At this point, they'd attracted a fairly large crowd consisting of most of the wedding party and attendees, except for Ron, who was determinedly remaining in his seat. Fiona, looking rather sulky now that the attention was away from her, stood next to him.

"Well, I...er, shouldn't we wait until after the wedding's done?"

"I worked all this out before with Hamish and Da," Walden said. "Th' weddin's done, they did the toasts, all that's happenin' now is the dancin' and such."

"Not like they need a shivaree, either, we know _they've_ already done the deed," said someone, from the crowd, who was hastily shushed. Another member of the crowd, most likely a Macfarlane cousin, from the accent, said, "Come on lassie, give the man a break, answer him before next Hogmanay!" A second voice added, "We want to get on wi' the dancin'!"

"Doona listen to those numpties, lass," Hamish said, in his booming voice. "Answer me cousin in yer own time, if ye will."

Meanwhile, Walden had retrieved the ring from the table and said, quietly, in Hermione's ear, "I'm sorry, I wanted to make it romantic for ye, ye can answer me later."

Hermione stood up and took Walden's hand. _In for a Knut, in for a Galleon_ , she thought. At least she no longer had to worry about all her friends finding out via the _Prophet_ or gossip-most of them were at the wedding. "I'll answer now..." she said, pausing a bit for dramatic effect once she noticed that Ron had stood up and was intently staring at them. "Yes!"

After the cheer sounded from the crowd, Ron promptly fainted.

* * *

Several hours later, while the Weird Sisters were taking a break, Hermione asked Walden if they might head home soon. Heather and Melissa had volunteered, and already departed, to take Evan to the Burrow for the pre-arranged sleepover, after which they planned to stay at the Three Broomsticks.

There'd been lots of dancing and even more carousing, and from the looks of things, both entertainments showed no signs of stopping in the near future. Although Hermione had chosen to stick to gillywater for the rest of the celebration, she did take one shot of the piper's excellent whisky before returning the flask to him. Walden had even consented, albeit with much reluctance, to dance with Hermione to "Do the Hippogriff"...to the general amusement of those former Hogwarts students who understood the irony.

Ron (after he'd been revived by a hasty Rennervate from Arthur Weasley) and Fiona had studiously avoided Walden and Hermione; Hermione ensured that she was not in the group of witches crowding around for the bouquet toss, and when the time came to give a mass farewell to the newlyweds prior to their Portkey journey to Malaga, she stood at the back of the crowd and waved half-heartedly. (Walden, meanwhile, had chosen to head to the loo rather than see them off.)

Draco had already departed, but Narcissa and Lucius accompanied them as they strolled up to the Disapparation point.

"Miss Granger, although I already congratulated you, may I be permitted to do so again?" Lucius bowed to Hermione and kissed her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Although I do so dislike to mix business and pleasure, I would like to make an appointment with you in the very near future, to discuss your Alliance," Hermione replied.

"Certainly," he replied. "Walden, good evening," Lucius added, before he and Narcissa, who'd remained mostly silent through the entire evening, Disapparated.

The next morning, Walden and Hermione enjoyed yet another leisurely lie-in, featuring breakfast in bed served by Binkus. Thanks to anti-hangover potions, no ugly headaches marred their quiet time together.

Once they'd started on their second cups of coffee, Walden asked, "Lass, may I ask what yer meeting with Lucius is about?"

"Oh, yes, that," Hermione replied, as she sat down her toast. "I'm quitting the Ministry and offering my services to the Alliance."

"That musta been what ye were sitting around thinkin' about for all that time," Walden replied. "I hope ye're not quittin' because of me."

"Well, I won't deny that our relationship was a factor, but honestly, my job was deadly dull, not at all what I expected when I started, and now that the trials have ended, I think I can do more good for the wizarding world by lending legitimacy to Lucius' effort. I'm certain he'll see it my way."

"That sounds a bit Slytherin, lass."

"Well, I have been studying you all in your native habitats for a while now," and she chuckled. "Not to mention that I really want to take some more time off."

"I canna argue with that," Walden said.

They'd both just about finished their coffee when the rapid pounding of footsteps in the hallway announced Evan's return...followed quickly by loud pounding on the door. "Dad! Can I come in?" He didn't wait before flinging open the door.

"Son, we're gonna have ta have a talk about privacy," Walden said. "I didna have the door warded, but normally I would, and you might not want to try and open it in that case."

"Sorry, Dad! Hermione, is it true? Are you going to be my mum?" Evan shouted, as he ran over to the bed and jumped on the end of it. Hermione was glad she'd sat down her coffee cup.

"Where did you hear that, Evan?"

"From Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny! Mr. Weasley says that you're old enough to know what you're doing, and Mrs. Weasley says she hopes you're not making a mistake, and Ginny said, Mum, I'm sure that Hermione is happy, I've seen them together and he's a perfect gentleman."

"Did they actually say all of that to you?" Hermione asked.

"Well, no, I heard them when I was coming down the stairs, but they weren't whispering or anything...but is it true?"

"Aye, son, it's true, I've asked her to marry me and she accepted," Walden interjected.

"AWESOME!" Evan shouted at the top of his lungs. "Am I going to get to wear a kilt again at your wedding? Can I wear the Gryffindor sword this time and the knife in my sock, too? Pleeeeeeeese?"

"We'll see about that, son," Walden said, smiling.

"Sorry, Da," Heather said, as she entered the room. "We couldn't stop him, he wanted to come right up and talk to you immediately." She paused for a moment, and then handed a letter to Walden. "Oh, and this just came for you."

"I suppose we'd better get up," Hermione said, as she resignedly stepped out of bed and Summoned her robe.

* * *

Off the British coast, near a bleak, windswept beach, there was a cave that crackled with magic. Deep inside the cave, protected by blood wards, was a black lake filled with Inferi with an island in the middle, on which stood a basin that had once held a Horcrux.

Lord Voldemort had visited this cave one last time prior to the Battle of Hogwarts, and in his haste to find Harry Potter, he'd not bothered to put back the anti-Apparition wards or the Dissolution Charms that hid it from prying Muggle and magical eyes.

Although higher-ups in the Ministry had been aware of the cave during Voldemort's brief reign, they'd not passed on this information to the new, reform government.

Thus, only one wizard currently held that knowledge, and he'd chosen to keep it to himself...until now.

A semicircle of black-robed wizards stood on the lake shore, wands aloft. It was clear that they'd found the perfect base of operations, and they looked to their leader for guidance.

"Hail the Resurgence!" shouted Corban Yaxley, as he sent green sparks into the air.


	26. One Way or Another

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

An extra big Thank You to all readers and reviewers-as always.

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 26 - One Way or Another**

Walden didn't mention the letter he'd received until much later, while he and Hermione were enjoying a relaxing evening in front of the fireplace in the trophy room. Evan was upstairs reading, and Heather and Melissa had headed off to a Quidditch match. Hermione was also, unsurprisingly, reading, propped up on a couple of pillows and covered in a blanket, her feet resting in Walden's lap. Walden had sat his whisky down and appeared to be dozing off, but then, he opened his eyes abruptly, pulled the letter out of his robe pocket, and said,

"Lass, I've had this owl from Yaxley." He frowned.

Hermione was not at all thrilled to hear, yet again, about the wizard who'd not only been the cause of the Trio's extended camping trip during Voldemort's reign, but had also, according to Walden, gone to her childhood home in search of her.

"Didn't he just get out of Azkaban, around the same time as Rowle?" Hermione asked. "I rather assumed Lucius would be approaching him about the Alliance, as well as...oh, those other two, the ones that Orla had on her docket...Travers and Selwyn?"

"I doona think he'll be part o' anythin' with Lucius," Walden grunted. "Pretty sure he and Avery are up to somethin'."

"Oh, I don't care for that Avery," Hermione said. "I know he went to St. Mungo's, and all that, and he kept insisting he was reformed, but I was very glad when I finally saw the back of him." She paused. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, Corban's letter...he's tryin' to find out if I...well, he says here, _'if you were not, as I was, satisfied with the outcome of the trials, I suggest you get in touch with Herbert and myself. I will be in the place we all met after the World Cup, in two weeks' time. Send your return owl for specifics_.'" Walden frowned again. "There's more but I'll nae be readin' it to ye."

"And why not?" Hermione asked, as she sat down her book.

"He says, _'if it's true what I've heard about you and that Mu-,_ er, Muggleborn _, then don't bother replying_."

"So, it's like that, is it? Clearly ten years in Azkaban wasn't nearly enough for him," Hermione snapped. "Well? _Are_ you replying to him?"

Walden crumpled up the letter and sent it into the fireplace flames. "Sod him," he grunted. "Shall we head upstairs?"

* * *

Harry Potter was not having a very good morning on the Monday after Ron's wedding. He'd stayed up way too late, both at the castle and at the Burrow, and even the well-crafted Alertness Potions available at the drinks counter in the Auror office weren't working on him. He'd just, in fact, decided to put his head down on his desk and take a short nap when Kingsley Shacklebolt knocked at his door.

Rubbing at his eyes and stretching, he waved his wand to open the door; after Kingsley had seated himself, he locked and warded it and added a quick Muffliato, just in case.

"What brings you here this morning, Kings?" Harry punctuated these words with a very loud, long yawn.

"Don't do that, Harry, it's catching, I only left a bit before you did," Kingsley answered. "And it's after noon, I was going to ask you if you'd have lunch with me-if you'd lower the wards just a second-" After Harry obliged, he waved his wand and a tray laden with sandwiches and a pot of coffee appeared on Harry's desk.

"You'd better have the coffee first," Kingsley advised. After the pair had made a dent in the tray, Kingsley began, gesturing toward Harry's bulletin board, which was covered with newspaper clippings largely concerning missing Muggles.

"I think I know what's behind all the disappearances. Well, I have a theory, and it's not a good one."

"The last one," Harry began. "This last one, in Cheshire, the eyewitness said he saw someone in a long black robe grab the woman from behind and disappear with her. Except he was outside of a pub, and a bit tipsy..."

"Not that tipsy," Kingsley said. "Herbert Avery lives in Cheshire and he's been spotted going into that pub after his St. Mungo's rounds. And this past weekend, our contact-a Squib-saw him meeting with a man meeting the description of Yaxley in that same pub."

"So...what?" Harry said. "Rogue ex-Death Eaters, looking for a spot of Muggle-baiting?"

"No," said Kingsley. "Looking to continue the foolishness that got them put behind bars in the first place."

"In short, what we've been fearing would happen for the last few years," Harry said, looking only slightly more alert.

"I'm going to need you to get in contact with Hermione, right away," Kingsley said, looking solemn. "I was going to talk to her at our dinner next week, but...she sent me an owl this morning, resigning her post at the Ministry, says she's going to work with Malfoy at this Alliance thing of his...and you and I both know that coming right after what we saw at Ron's wedding..."

"Doesn't look good," Harry finished. "Except...er, I know how Hermione's mind works, probably more than anyone, and...well...I think she's got some sort of idea that she'll be able to, you know, do some good with the Alliance. I mean to say, she had this house-elf liberation society going when we were at school...and the elves didn't care for it, she kept making clothes for them and leaving them all around the common room, and Dobby...er..." he drifted off, and Kingsley cleared his throat. "Anyway, I don't think joining that Alliance is sinister in itself," he finished.

"But..." Kingsley replied, drawing out the word so that it became a question.

"Macnair," Harry said. "I haven't the slightest bloody idea what's going through her head with regard to him. I interviewed him, you know, before they went to Australia, and it was odd, she said she was at Malfoy's because of the Alliance, and they were all sitting around in a room, perfectly open and above-board, but there was this odd feeling in the air, like I'd interrupted something...and I did find out after all that, Ginny knew it was going on and never said a word to me...it seems that Skeeter column was true after all..."

"Harry, could you try to stay focused?" Kingsley asked. "I'm exhausted too and this isn't helping."

"Well, Ginny says she's sure he's reformed, and that Hermione is an adult and can make her own decisions." He picked up his coffee and took a long draught. "Certainly the rest of Macnair's family is all right, his father was a Gryffindor, did you know?"

"I did know," Kingsley said. "We were in school together. That was one of the reasons why we agreed to Macnair's house arrest."

"Right," Harry said. "Er...I have an idea. It might be a bit unconventional."

"Go on," Kingsley said.

* * *

"So do ye need to go back ta the Ministry to, er, check out or somethin'?" Walden asked. They'd spent the morning and most of the afternoon in bed together, after Heather and Melissa had taken Evan down to London for sightseeing.

"Well, I should go pick up my office things at some point, but there wasn't anything on my immediate docket because I'd taken all that time off. I rather think Percy knew this was coming. He's nothing if not overly prepared for every scenario."

"He's that tight-arsed Weasley, aye?"

"Yes, the one I've always thought was a changeling," Hermione said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and summoning her robe. "Anyway, the owl came when I stepped out to the loo, Kings accepted my resignation and the letter was countersigned by Percy, so it's fine, I could have them send my things on if I wanted, and I might..." she paused. "Or I could have Harry get them, I suppose. I should probably talk to him soon," she added.

"Well, he'll be comin' here in the next couple o' days," Walden said. "For me, ye know..."

"Oh, right," Hermione said, as she headed toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a bath, see you in a bit."

* * *

"I haven't got a reply from Walden yet," said Yaxley, with a frown, as he sat down his beer.

"You know," said Avery, "I really think he's faking it with the Mudblood. You know how he really was, how he used to be at the Revels. I think he planned the whole thing to stay out of Azkaban...I mean, it's not as if Lucius would have been there with him..." and at that last bit, both wizards chuckled, rather rudely.

"Lucius!" spat Yaxley. "After we're done with the first phase of our plan, we're taking him out. And Draco, that sniveling coward." He glanced around. "Where are Travers and Selwyn? They're late."

"Mayhap they don't like meeting in this Muggle place," Avery grunted. "I don't like it much...except for the women..." and he leered at the barmaid, who was studiously ignoring him. "If they don't show soon, let's go back to headquarters. You should have had them meet the same place as Walden."

"I don't want to meet there with anyone who wasn't in the Inner Circle, Herbert," Yaxley sighed. "Thought I said that before. Stop second-guessing me."

"What about those old Snatchers, you met them near there?"

"Herbert, a moving target is tougher to hit," Yaxley said. "I met them in Little Hangleton because they understood its significance to our movement. And we need all the help we can get at this point, so I threw them a bone."

* * *

Several days after the wedding, Rait Castle was nearly back to normal; all evidence of the celebrations had been cleaned away by the combined efforts of Macnair and Macfarlane house-elves. Only one houseguest remained, a great-aunt from Canada, who was in her room packing up because she'd chosen to move to a room in Hogsmeade for the rest of her trip. Thus, the extended Macnair family had decided to have a quiet, casual dinner in the library. Hermione was thrilled with this idea, and had strategically moved her chair close to a small table that she planned to stack with books. Evan was excited to have his dinner in front of the fire; he'd asked Binkus for the toasting fork, and was currently in the midst of burning his fifth piece of bread to a crisp. Elspeth, Melissa and Heather were huddled together in a serious conversation about room decoration-the couple had found and purchased a Hogsmeade house, so Elspeth had offered up some Macnair heirlooms from the attic, and they were all debating the merits of returning to Australia to pick up the rest of their items or just selling the house partially furnished and starting anew.

Meanwhile, Gavin, as per usual, had nodded off over his after-dinner whisky, and Walden wasn't far behind him.

"Master Walden, you has a letter," Binkus announced, nearly causing him to spill his drink. "And the owl is waiting for a reply." Indeed, the owl was perched on Binkus' arm, and the gleaming circled "M" hanging from a leather strap attached to its left claw sparkled in the firelight.

Walden slit open the letter in silence.

"It's from the Minister," he said, not looking up at anyone. "I'm to report directly to him tomorrow." He stood up and walked over to Hermione. "Lass, if I'm to be sent back to Azkaban, ye doona need to wait for me."


	27. Eye on the Sparrow

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

This time, I send an extra-super-huge Thank You to all readers and reviewers-as always, due to my prolonged absence from fic-writing. Sadly, real life intervened, as did a bad case of writers' block, but I am back at it now.

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 27 – Eye on the Sparrow**

Everyone (including Evan) stood up at once after Walden's pronouncement. Once the shouting had died down, Hermione was able to say, "I very much doubt that will happen. Didn't you say Harry was supposed to be coming for your parole interview? Perhaps he's not available..."

"I think they doona like that I've asked ye ta marry me," Walden muttered.

"Who exactly do you mean by 'they'?" Hermione asked. "And whoever 'they' may be, I would have appreciated a heads-up, if this is really about that. We just saw Kings at the wedding!"

"Son, I'll go with ye," said Gavin, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I knew Kingsley at school, fairly well. We'll figure all this out in the morning. Ye two stay here tonight," and he gestured at Walden and Hermione.

"I'm going as well," Hermione said.

"Nay," said Walden. "If they try and send me back to Azkaban, I willna go, they'll have to Avada me first….I'm sorry, lass…and I doona want ye to see that."

"For the last time," Hermione said, rather loudly. "Who precisely are 'they'? If you mean the Ministry in general, up until a short while ago, I was part of it. And as far as 'that'…," she paused, and Walden knew she meant his mention of the Killing Curse, "…I saw far worse at the Battle of Hogwarts." Had either Harry or Ron been present, they would have pointed out to the collected Macnairs, who were all rather aghast at her pronouncement, that Hermione could be more than a little scary sometimes.

"Now if you all will excuse me, I wanted to get in a little light reading before bedtime," she added, levitating a large, teetering stack of books onto the table next to her.

* * *

As it transpired, Elspeth, Gavin, and Hermione all accompanied Walden to the Ministry the next morning. The two couples Side-Along Apparated to the visitor's entrance; this time, Hermione remembered to cast the Notice-Me-Not spell before they entered the Atrium. Nobody spoke as they took the lift to the Minister's office, or when Gavin, Elspeth and Hermione sat in the waiting area for what seemed like hours.

When the door finally opened, a rather unexpected bunch of witches and wizards exited, in addition to Walden and Kingsley.

* * *

"I'm not sure I exactly understand why I need to go to New York," Hermione said, as she finished her butterbeer.

"I believe that the wizards and witches you meet there will be…useful…for your later endeavours with the Alliance," Lucius said, before spearing a canapé and popping it into his mouth. "Plus, you will be able to spend some relaxing time at…er, my Connecticut estate, and you will also be close enough to visit Salem and Ilvermorny if you wish. You'll find Madam Wilkes to be an amiable companion, of course, but if you wish solitude, there's certainly ample room for that. And the library, while not quite up to the Manor's standards, should keep you amused for a while."

Hermione leaned in close. "What's _really_ going on? Does all this have something to do with Avery and Yaxley?"

Lucius leaned ever so slightly back from the table, picked up his wine glass, and began examining his contents. "I have no idea what you mean." He paused, took a sip, and glanced at the door to the Cauldron's private dining area, just as a quiet knock sounded. "That must be Elspeth and Gavin. I'll be heading back." After setting down his glass, he stood up, assisted Hermione in getting out of her chair and putting on her cloak, handed her a pouch (which he'd explained earlier contained a private Portkey), kissed her ever-so-lightly on the lips, and Disapparated.

"Och, good, we missed the Sassenach," Gavin said, as he and Elspeth bustled in. "We'll go back to the Lodge and help ye pack up. Ye can store anythin' ye like at the castle."

"Look," Hermione said, as she gathered up her satchel. "Can either of _you_ tell me what is really going on? I'm not angry at you, or at Walden. I know all this must have something to do with that meeting he had with Kingsley, and I really don't care if Skeeter publishes another stupid article about us. I just need an explanation!"

Elspeth came closer and put a comforting arm around Hermione. "We know as much as ye do, I'm afraid. Gavin followed him back to the Lodge and he wouldna talk to 'im."

Hermione frowned down at the ring on the third finger of her left hand, and then resolutely slipped it off. "You should probably hold on to this. He told me it was a family heirloom."

"It is, but I'm sure that once he comes to his senses he'll be wantin' you to have it back—"

"I'm not sure that will be any time soon," Hermione interjected. "Please take it."

Frowning, Elspeth accepted the ring and slid it into her reticule, while muttering, partially to herself, "I canna believe he's slittered this up again…"

"I can!" Gavin said. "And he had to do it in front of that Prophet slag, o' course. Lass," and he directed this last at Hermione, who was clutching her bag resolutely and attempting to not completely break down in front of the Macnairs, "If ye'd rather nae go to the Lodge right now, yer friend, Mrs. Potter, is waitin' outside, and she said ye could go to their house. She said ta tell ye she brought her husband's cloak."

* * *

Several hours later, after Hermione had consumed most of a bottle of Ogden's (in the form of Mrs. Weasley's Medicinal Hot Toddy recipe), she finally related to Ginny what had happened that morning. They were upstairs on the sofa in the guest suite at Grimmauld Place. James had been packed off to his grandmother's, and Harry was working late.

"We sat in Kings' waiting area for what seemed like hours," Hermione said, her voice shaking a bit. "We were mostly reading, nobody wanted to talk, really. Walden's parents had tried on the way in, but he wouldn't speak to them, or me. Of course Kings had his office warded and soundproofed, so when the door opened and all those people came out, we were quite surprised. Rita Skeeter and that wretched photographer of hers seemed to appear out of nowhere, like she'd been Summoned!"

"Er, who was there, besides Skeeter and…you know, Walden and Kings?" Ginny asked, softly.

"Well, Harry was there, along with what seemed like all the Auror Department and a lot of the MLE senior staffers. And Lucius was there as well. Walden came right over to me, and…, well…I asked him if he was all right, if everything had turned out all right and he said… _'Sorry, Miss Granger, but I've made a big mistake, I really doona think witches of…your kind and wizards of my kind should be together. It's nae gonna work, so I'll be asking ye to move on with yer life now.'_ He had this horrible, cold look on his face, the way he looked back when he was…you know….at the school that time, for Buckbeak. Or like when we all saw him at the Department of Mysteries. It was like I didn't know him at all, like we'd never spent any time together. And then that Skeeter woman shoved her way in and started asking questions and taking pictures…and…." Hermione sniffed. "I suppose it's a story in the paper now," she added.

Ginny nodded. "The Evening Prophet was downstairs on the table when I went to get those snacks earlier." The story was on the front page, entitled DEATH EATER HEARTBREAK, and the picture accurately reflected Hermione's description.

"He even shoved his mum out of the way when she tried to talk to him, and we followed him down to the Atrium and out to the street, but he went into an alley and Disapparated. Gavin tried to follow him, but he's gone. He's left the lodge and the elves don't know where he is, they told me."

"It just seems so odd," Ginny mused, "that after the meeting, he'd be like that."

"Maybe it does have something to do with Kings…or Harry…not liking Walden's marriage proposal, and they put pressure on him, threatened him with losing his parole…." Hermione's voice drifted off as she flicked her wand and poured herself another mug of toddy. "I shouldn't have any more of this. I've got to figure out when I should leave for New York…."

"New York?" Ginny said. "What's that all about?"

"Oh, Lucius was following behind us, and after Walden Disapparated, he took me to a private room at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He explained that as my first assignment on behalf of the Alliance, I should visit New York and network with the wizarding community…and he offered me lodgings at his residence in Connecticut as well as a private Portkey booking."

"Are you going?"

"I am," Hermione said. "Although he didn't say it specifically, it will help get my mind off everything here…." She took a sip of toddy. "I suppose I don't have to leave straightaway."

"You absolutely do not have to leave straightaway! You can stay here as long as you like. The room is warded, and you can borrow Harry's Cloak if you need to go out."

"I do need to retrieve my things, though," she replied, looking down at her bag, which she'd packed with books for the Ministry visit, which now seemed as if it had been a million years ago.

"Miranda's here, by the way," Ginny said. "She's in the attic with the rest of the owls."

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. Ginny flicked her wand to open it.

"Mistress Ginny," Kreacher croaked, bowing low in her direction. "There is an elf here called Binkus, asking for Missy Hermione."

"Let him in, please, Kreacher," Ginny said, standing up; Hermione stood up behind her.

"Missy Hermione, Binkus has your things," Binkus said, after he bowed at both Ginny and Hermione. "And I took Master Evan to Missy Melissa's house in Hogsmeade. He sent you a letter!" The elf handed Hermione the letter and a magically-reduced trunk.

"Have you—have you seen, er, Walden?" Hermione said, her voice shaking a bit.

"Master Walden is being very bad," Binkus said. "He is taking his things and going away and not speaking with Binkus or his parents. And Malfoy Manor elves are coming to help me close up the Lodge again."

"Oh…." Hermione said, as she collapsed back down onto the sofa. "Er…thank you, Binkus, er, I guess that'll be all for now." She sat the trunk down and opened Evan's letter.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _My dad is being stupid and I don't want to talk to him! I'm going to my sissy's house but I want to come to America with you. Can I?_

 _Love,_

 _Evan_

"I suppose that'd be all right," Hermione muttered.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Well, Evan wants to come along to America and I suppose that'd be all right; he won't be starting Hogwarts until the fall."

"And maybe his dad will have stopped being a wanker by then," Ginny levitated the trunk onto the floor and waved her wand in its direction, returning it to its normal size. "Isn't this your old Hogwarts trunk?"

"I never saw the point of getting rid of it," Hermione said, as she opened the lid. Inside, her clothes, books, and other items had been magically reduced and neatly packed. She bent over and picked up a small black item from the top of the pile, sat it on the side table, and tapped it with her wand. It was the obsidian raven sculpture that she'd given Walden for Christmas.

"Well, how nice of him to give _this_ back," Hermione said, with a grimace. "Shame I've already tossed the shop receipt."

"Wasn't that the pressie you got him for Christmas?"

"It was. I suppose I should send back the necklace he gave me but since I don't exactly have a forwarding address…" and with those last words, she broke down and began sobbing. Ginny sat down beside her and pulled her into her arms for a hug.

Neither one of them noticed that the raven slowly blinked.


	28. Old Friends

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Some characters that will appear in these upcoming chapters are my OCs from the original "Dark Redemption" trilogy. Eric Gundarsson is a New York Auror, originally from Minnesota. Lucinda Wilkes (formerly Avery) was Walden's long-time consort at the Dark Revels; later, she became Lucius Malfoy's lover, and part owner of his Connecticut estate. Inanna Moonwomon and Rhiannon Whitefeather are teachers at the Salem Witches' Institute, which is much like a community college. (Originally, it was the only American institution named by JKR—Ilvermorny wasn't a 'thing' until just before the Fantastic Beasts movie).

And yes, I realize the previous chapter was somewhat of a surprise. Sorry!

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 28 – Old Friends**

The next morning, Hermione and Ginny, by mutual arrangement, continued their "witches' slumber party." Ginny sent an owl to her Mum, who was only too happy to keep James for another day (or two), and Harry obligingly left early for work after a very hurried breakfast. The two caught up on all gossip (except, of course, concerning the current situation), ate a lot of ice cream and other junk food, did manicures and pedicures, paged through old copies of Witch Weekly (carefully edited to not include Hermione) and played Exploding Snap.

After spending nearly an entire day at these low-stress pursuits, Hermione sent an owl to Heather and Melissa's house, and explained that Evan was, of course, welcome to come to America with her and that she planned to leave in three days directly from Grimmauld Place.

That evening, Harry joined Hermione and Ginny for dinner and several raucous games of both Gobstones and Exploding Snap; the later games were fueled by Firewhisky and got very heated. Neither Death Eaters nor the Ministry was discussed.

Hermione sorted through her things on the day prior to her departure, and decided to shrink down and store her off-season clothes and extra books up in the attic. She made sure to wrap the necklace Walden had given her in a velvet bag and put it at the very bottom of the trunk. That evening, Evan, Melissa, and Heather arrived. After a long, rather silent dinner, Evan broke the silence.

"Hermione, do you know why my dad is being mean? I don't understand. Is he a bad guy again?"

Hermione, who'd spent the better part of the past three days trying to figure out the answer to the exact same question, merely replied, quite uncharacteristically, "I don't know."

"Maybe he never stopped being a bad guy, Evan," Heather interjected. "He hasn't answered any of my owls."

"I hadn't even thought about trying to send him owls…or a Patronus," Hermione said, sounding rather defeated.

"Binkus says he doesn't know where he is, either," Melissa added. "Maybe it's just as well. He said he didn't want to go back to Azkaban….possibly they were going to send him there, and he's just, you know, skipped town."

After this last pronouncement, Harry, who'd said less than five words throughout dinner, stood up slowly and said, to nobody in particular, "I'm…er, going to pop over to the Burrow and pick up James."

"I'll go with you," Ginny said, as she stood up next to him. "Hermione, will you be all right on your own? You and Evan are welcome to come along."

"I want to stay here with Hermione!" Evan said, as he got up to hug Melissa and Heather.

About an hour after everyone had departed, Hermione said, "Would you like to go see a Muggle film?" Evan agreed enthusiastically, and thus "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" and copious amounts of buttered popcorn took their minds off things for a little while.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione (under Harry's Cloak), Ginny, and Evan proceeded to the Portkey Office at the Ministry. There was an area reserved for private international Portkeys, which Hermione had not noticed previously. After all the tearful goodbyes had concluded, Hermione and Evan were checked in by a functionary and strapped into two connecting seats that sat atop a carpeted dais.

"Be sure to send an owl when you get there!" Ginny said, as she waved them off.

When the Portkey landed in New York, a tall blonde wizard dressed in an outfit that Hermione recognized as American Auror robes stood in the doorway next to the Portkey official. He waited patiently until all the bureaucratic requirements had been met, and then introduced himself.

"Hello, Miss Granger, I'm Eric Gundarsson of the New York Auror Force." They shook hands. "And this has to be Evan," he said, reaching down to shake Evan's hand, as well. "I knew your mom, kid," he added.

"You did? What was she like? I want Hermione to be my mom now, but my dad is being a bad man again, so I came here, but I want to go back so I can go to Hogwarts in a few months. I want to be a Gryffindor! Did you go there? What House were you in?"

"No, I went to the Asgard School, it's in Minnesota, it's pretty small," Eric said. "We didn't have houses or anything like that. My parents wanted me to go there instead of Ilvermorny so I could be closer to home."

"Ilvermorny is the school here, right? My mom taught at a school but I think it was really small, too, and just for witches."

"She did," Eric replied. "Miss Granger, if you don't mind, I was going to take you all to Salem right now. You can get something to eat—there's a pretty good restaurant, with an inn next door. I thought you might want to stay there tonight instead of….er, your other accommodations."

"I'm hungry!" said Evan.

"And I'm fairly tired and hungry," Hermione said, as she stared down at her feet. "That sounds like a good plan."

The Cloudy Crystal was located in the historic downtown area of Salem; much like the Leaky Cauldron, it appeared to be an abandoned storefront to Muggles. Inside, the bustling pub resembled the scrubbed-up restaurant on Knockturn Alley outside which Ron had pitched his hissy fit.

The waitress, Cerridwen, brought menus and glasses of water and looked oddly at Evan, almost as if she might have recognized him, and Hermione was reminded once again how small the wizarding community truly was. When Evan left the table for a bathroom break, she turned to Eric. "Auror Gundarsson, did Evan's mother used to come here? And did, er, did…his father, as well?"

"Call me Eric, if you would. Yes, Rowan owned a shop in town called the Flying Witch and she came here a lot…and yeah, Macnair came here, at least once that I know of." He grimaced. "I'm sorry. I know things have changed and all that, and I know the story about how he sent his kids to safety, but I'm no fan of Evan's father, I wasn't back then and I'm not now."

"Well, to be truthful," Hermione said, just before she took a sip of water, "I'm not a fan of him at the moment, either. I feel as if something is going on that I'm not privy to, but…well, he was just so callous and cold at the Ministry…." She paused. "I'm sorry. I haven't been able to talk to anyone except Ginny about what happened, and you probably don't want to hear it."

"If you want my honest opinion, I think once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Sorry to put it bluntly. And Malfoy—well, he did contact the Auror Force properly, and I've seen his house when we did our search—it's luxurious, as you would expect…" He paused and flipped through the menu. "I'm just going to get the Double Merlin Burger like I always do, not sure why I'm bothering—but you should try the lobster roll, Rowan always liked that-"

"That sounds good," Hermione said. "I suspect Evan would want a single Merlin Burger if they have that—although I don't know, he does take after his father, he might want the Double…"

"Just get him the single to start," Eric said. "I want to get you two fed and over to the Annex before it gets too late." Cerridwen had appeared as if by magic, order pad in hand. "Oh, and a mead for the lady," Eric added, after he had placed the order. "Trust me, you'll like it. Local brewery."

Evan kept Eric busy by asking him all about his Auror responsibilities, adding "Cool!" and "Awesome!" at appropriate points in the conversation, so Hermione was able to enjoy her sandwich and mead in relative peace. Eric and Evan finished their meals quickly when conversation wound down, and Hermione realized, with a start, that they were both silent with empty plates, and she'd been staring off into space thinking of nothing in particular, which was pleasant.

"Come on, I'd better get you both checked in, looks like Portkey Lag has caught up to you….I've paid the bill, and I've already paid the bill over there. I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow morning, but for now, I can just Side-Along Apparate us, if you don't mind."

* * *

"Ms. Wilkes, I'd like you to meet Hermione Granger," Eric said. He looked completely uncomfortable standing on the porch at Malfoy's Connecticut estate. The place was Unplottable, which had caused the ride over in the NYAF car to be a rather bumpy one, as the vehicle doggedly attempted to navigate through the wards surrounding the place. Evan, predictably, had pronounced the entire experience to be "Super Cool"; Hermione had surreptitiously popped several of the anti-nausea pills she'd purchased for the Australian journey.

Ms. Wilkes glided over, gave a very polite nod, shook Hermione's hand, and said "Charmed," with no trace of sarcasm. She then turned to Evan. "And you must be Evan. You look quite a bit like your father," she added.

"My dad is being a bad wizard again," Evan said, with a frown. "That's why we're here, but I'm going to go back to Scotland so I can go to Hogwarts."

"Of course you are," Ms. Wilkes said. "May I show you to your rooms?"

* * *

"For the last time, Avery," Walden said, "I doona want to talk about her. It's over and done. Thought I could get something out of it but I couldna. I agree with Yaxley, the trials were a joke, let's get on with it."

"But, I was hoping to hear a little more about what it was like for you and the Mudblood," Avery wheedled. "You know."

"No' much different than with any other witch, but I doona want to be saddled with that for the rest of me life," Walden said, as he tossed down another shot of whisky and slammed the glass onto the bar. "So where is he?"

"He'll be here soon," Avery said, as he glanced around at the other bar patrons. "I like this place because of all the female Muggles. What do you think?"

"Doona care," Walden said, signaling the barman for another shot. "All I care about is talkin' to Yaxley."


	29. Endgame

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Yes, the title of this chapter is taken from one of the Highlander films. I only enjoyed the first one. *grin*

It's also a little heavy on the language and violence. Be warned.

(For those who read this earlier, I have made one quick edit of a typo. Walden says "...the power vested in..." as he should.)

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 29 – Endgame**

"I'm here, Walden," Yaxley said; he'd appeared behind Avery. Possibly he'd been Cloaked or done a Notice-Me-Not—he'd been adept at both, Walden recalled, in both his Ministry and Death Eater careers.

"Good," Walden grunted, as he quickly drank the shot the barman brought. "'M tired of listenin' ta Avery."

"I say—" Avery began, and Yaxley waved at him to be silent.

"I know you two aren't friends," Yaxley said, laconically, as he waved the barman over and motioned toward the lager taps. "We have more important things to worry about than petty disagreements. Walden, you can stay at my house for the duration. Herbert, when we're done here, go find someone to shag and quit your infernal whining."

"More like pay someone," Walden said.

"What's the matter, Walden, are you sad because your Lucy-poo isn't with you? Or do you actually miss the Mudblood?"

"Ye must have a death wish, Avery."

"Shut it!" Yaxley accepted his lager from the barman and drained it quickly. "Pay your tabs and let's go, we can settle this elsewhere."

The three ducked into the alleyway behind the pub and Disapparated, reappearing in front of Avery's house, which was far out in the country in Cheshire, Unplottable, and rather dilapidated. After Avery and his wife Lucinda had divorced, she'd taken back her maiden name and all of her Galleons. He'd sold his part of their Somerset residence to her and used the proceeds to buy this place, which he'd never liked. It had sat empty during his years in Azkaban, and only recently, with the assistance of two elderly elves from the Placement Agency on Diagon Alley, had he begun to bring order to the rampant chaos. Only a few rooms were currently habitable, and one of them was a small, dingy guest room, in which Walden had been reluctantly staying.

"Smoothest Disapparation I've had in a while," Yaxley noted, brushing at his coat sleeve. Avery waved his wand over his inexpertly assembled Muggle-wear and Transfigured it to overly-ornamented wizard robes, which were a bit too large for him.

"Borrowing your da's robes again, Herbert?" said Walden, as he examined his fingernails.

"At least I'm properly dressed," Avery whinged.

"Nothin' wrong with me clothes," Walden replied. He was in a kilt and heavy jumper.

"All right, that's it. You two need to duel this out. I'll have to act as second for both of you, and try not to kill each other….or don't, I'm not chuffed either way," Yaxley added, as he slowly ambled over and sat on the front stoop.

Walden whipped out his wand and jabbed it into the hollow of Avery's throat, then grabbed his shoulder roughly with his left hand, holding him in place, all before the other wizard had managed to react.

"Avery, ye knobdobber, I'm nae tellin' ye anythin' about who I've been fuckin', or how, or even why, so ye may as well shut yer gob now before I shut it for ye," Walden said, in a low, rather calm voice. "And if what ye're wantin' is for _me_ to fuck ye, that'll never happen."

"I'm not interested in that! I like witches!" Avery spluttered.

"Aye, the younger the better, and ye're nae bothered if they're related ta ye or nae, ye fookin' scunner, I know all about ye."

"That's because you were fucking my wife for years, you foul, disgusting baboon," Avery said. To his credit, he didn't look that frightened, but there was a quaver in his voice that belied his posturing.

"Nae for years, she was loyal to ye for a long time, nae sure why," Walden said. He hadn't moved his wand and Avery hadn't budged a bit.

"Can't say as much about _your_ wife, though, the first one I mean, can we?" Avery said.

"I married the wrong witch, ye dumb cunt, it happens. Should have married Lucinda."

"Maybe the Dark Lord wouldn't have killed that Yankee slut, then." Avery was very perceptibly trembling at this point and had clearly decided he had nothing to lose.

"Don't ye ever mention her," Walden said, very quietly, almost too quietly for both Avery and Yaxley to hear. And then he pressed his wand so forcefully that Yaxley was surprised it didn't pop all the way through Avery's neck. "Ever."

"Walden, this really isn't the least bit productive," Yaxley called out. "Let him go, get your things, and come back to my place for the night. We'll have another meeting when you both have cooled down."

"Nay, ye said ye wasna chuffed either way, leave us," Walden said, with very little effort, although by this point, he had likely left some fairly serious bruises on Avery's shoulder—not to mention that his wand was sparking, causing Avery to jump and squeal a bit every time it happened. Two ravens appeared and flapped their way noisily onto Avery's porch railing; but along the way, one of them left a hefty pile of droppings very close to where Yaxley was sitting.

"Eurgh! Enough of this," Yaxley said. "When you're done, meet my elf outside my wards." He stood up, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

"No!" Avery said, rather too late, "Don't leave me with him!"

"Isna that what ye want, _Herbert_ ," Walden said, in a mocking voice, "Just ye and me, alone together? I think it's what ye've always wanted, the way ye used to watch me and Lucius. Maybe ye'd like to get down on yer knees and pleasure me." His wand sparked again, and three more ravens appeared in the sky and began circling the area.

"No! I told you, I like witches! Leave me alone! Just let me go, and go to Yaxley's! I'll have the elves gather your things and I'll never say another word to you, I promise!"

"Yer promises mean nothin' ta me," Walden growled. "Where's yer wand?"

"In…in my robe pocket. Left side."

Walden flicked his wand ever so slightly and muttered " _Accio_." Avery's wand obligingly floated its way toward him. A second wand flick and " _Incarcerous_ " resulted in an elaborately trussed-up Avery tipping over and falling to the ground with a loud thump.

"Stop this, Walden! We're supposed to be on the same side! I'm sorry I said those things to you! I've—I've just been lonely! When we have the Revels again—Yaxley said we could have them—I'll stay away from you, I promise!" He was practically blubbering.

"Fuck ye, _Herbert_ ," Walden said, as he plucked Avery's wand out of the air in one smooth movement, and snapped it in two with his left hand. He cleared his throat and raised his wand. "Herbert Devere Avery…by the power vested in….och, sod it," Walden growled, as he stowed his wand in its holster and pulled a long, wicked-looking knife from a second holster.

"No! What are you doing with that?" were Avery's last words.

Before Walden Disapparated, he burned Avery's ruined body and Vanished the ashes.

Several minutes after Walden's departure, a puzzled house-elf appeared on the porch and stared with its bulging eyes at the lawn, which was empty save for five ravens pecking at the grass.

* * *

It took Hermione a little while to realize exactly where she was when she abruptly awoke in Lucinda Wilkes' tastefully appointed guest suite. She slowly dragged herself out of bed and toward the bathroom, where she noted the contents of her vanity kit had been unpacked and augmented with soap, towels, and a fluffy white bathrobe. She took a long bath in the large garden tub and stared out the window at the Connecticut landscape. A light snow had fallen in the night and dusted the lawn and the bare trees that distantly ringed the property.

The previous evening, over an impromptu tea, Lucinda had explained to her that she and Lucius were co-owners of the property and that she had lived here for ten years, which made her lucky enough to have missed the worst of Voldemort's reign. Lucius had made a perfunctory visit when his parole allowed him to, and he'd brought several years' worth of back issues of the _Daily Prophet_ with him, so she was fairly up-to-date on British wizarding news.

She apologized, with only a vague hint of regret, for having contacted Walden, and started to explain in a rather roundabout way that they'd been friends and chess partners at the Revels, before Hermione stopped her and told her that it was all right, that she knew, that Walden had told her all about it and she wasn't bothered.

"I am bothered about how he treated you, though," Lucinda said, as she offered Hermione the plate of biscuits again; Hermione waved it off.

"He told me, that same day when he mentioned you'd written, that he wouldn't, er…." The phrase had actually been _'play with her heart_ ,' but Hermione was reluctant to admit it. "Er…string me along. And in a way I suppose he hasn't. He cut me right off."

"I suspect there is something else going on," Lucinda said. "He did that to me, twice. And there was a reason both times."

"That reason is obviously that we're too different, as he said," Hermione stated. "I'm going to complete a few tasks for the Alliance, ensure that Evan gets all his Hogwarts supplies and then gets settled with his sister and her wife in Hogsmeade…." She paused, and took a drink of tea. "Then I'm going back to Australia and tell my parents I've come to my senses." She gave a bit of sarcastic emphasis to that last bit. "I'm sorry. I understand he was your friend. But he's clearly found me wanting in some way and I see no reason to sit around on the shelf like a discarded dolly in a charity shop, waiting for some wanker to come and pick me up." She munched on a biscuit. "Plus, there's some sort of clandestine business going on with Yaxley and Avery and I have no desire to find out what that's all about."

"Herbert, you mean? What on earth is that reprobate up to now?"

"Yaxley sent Walden an owl hinting that he should meet with Avery and him for some sort of…I don't know…reckoning of how the trials went, but that Walden shouldn't bother to meet if what they'd heard about me, the 'Mudblood', was true." She grimaced at that last.

Lucinda grimaced in return. "Such déclassé language," she murmured. "I'm not surprised, Yaxley always was a little rough around the edges. I never liked him."

"I've never been thrilled about him myself, especially since he was responsible for our months-long camping trip, and apparently also visited my house after I'd sent my parents away," Hermione said, picking up another biscuit. "But all that's beside the point. Walden said he didn't want to meet with him, but then he was called to the Ministry right after he got that letter. So I know those two things must be connected, but nobody will say anything. Harry has been extremely closed-mouthed, and Kingsley wouldn't even look me in the eye."

If Lucinda was at all shocked that Hermione had mentioned the "savior of the wizarding world" and the sitting Minister for Magic in the same breath by their first names, she didn't show it. "Yaxley was well known for attempting to raise his status as a Dark wizard by any means necessary. He was a Hufflepuff, you know," she added.

"I didn't know!" Hermione said. "Not many Dark Badgers about."

"Very few of them in my experience. He's Sacred Twenty-Eight, and related to the Blacks, but his family was far from prosperous, so he used his Ministry job as a social-climbing ladder….and not very well." She paused. "I suspect he misses the status he had as an Inner Circle Death Eater, and is attempting to regain it."

"He's not exactly had much chance to do that in Azkaban for the last ten years, but he did just get paroled," Hermione said. "He wasn't on my docket, so I don't know the details of his trial or anything afterward."

"But you did have Herbert on your docket, didn't you?"

"Oh yes, and I apologize again, but I didn't like him, either. He was always looking me up and down in a very unpleasant way. I was glad to see the back of him."

"As was I. It was an arranged marriage, you understand; an alliance, if you will. He wanted an heir and I didn't provide one. And he had an unhealthy interest in our daughter."

"Oh. Yes. I rather—sorry, but I did think he seemed the sort. I didn't like the idea of him being at St. Mungo's but the Healers approved it. Er…what happened to your daughter? I recall an Avery being in Slytherin, a couple of years ahead of me; we were in an extra-credit Runes seminar together."

Lucinda sat her tea cup down. "Lucius assisted me in sending her away to California after she got out of Hogwarts. She's visited here several times and is doing quite well; she married one of those Information Processing wizards in San Francisco."

"Oh, that's a relief," Hermione said. "I'm always glad to hear that someone was able to completely avoid the war. I wish I could have, honestly."

"I'm sorry that you did not," Lucinda said. "But may I add that I and many of the others—and by that I mean wizarding society—are most grateful to you and your friends for your heroism."

Hermione blushed. "It's, er, been a while since I was formally thanked, but you are welcome. It's not as if we gave much forethought to being heroic. I just did what was necessary at the time."

"If you'll forgive me…I think it's possible that is what Walden is doing."


	30. I Want To Believe

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

The title of this chapter is taken from Agent Mulder's famous poster.

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 30 – I Want to Believe**

Walden sent red sparks up from his wand, and Yaxley's elf obligingly trotted over and transported him inside the wards and directly to the sitting room, where the wizard was sitting next to the fire in a recliner, having a drink of whiskey. Once Walden had been similarly equipped, and he'd lit his pipe, Yaxley glanced at him questioningly.

"So, do I need a new second-in-command? And are you available?"

"Aye, and I am," Walden said.

"Good," Yaxley grunted. He waved his wand and the elf reappeared. "Take Mr. Macnair's things up to the guest room." After retrieving Walden's satchel, the elf vanished. "I assume you covered your tracks."

"Had already packed me things before we went ta the pub," Walden said, after which he released a large puff of smoke.

"Well, to be truthful," Yaxley said, "I won't miss Herbert a bit. Constantly whinging, mostly about witches, and he kept on grabbing those Muggle women, which wasn't helping our cause. The fact is, though, without him, it's you and me, Travers, Selwyn, and a few Snatchers and their hangers-on who miss the old days." He paused. "I think we need to go for a grand effect…something that will teach those Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers to take notice that not everyone agrees with their liberal agenda."

"What were ye thinkin'?" Walden asked, after a short pause.

"I think we need to hit Hogwarts," Yaxley said. "They won't expect it."

Walden released another puff of smoke and then sipped at his whisky before replying. "They may no' be expectin' it, but I didna join up wi' ye for that. Me son will be startin' there this fall."

"And wouldn't it be more pleasant if you knew that there were fewer Muggle-lovers there to teach him?"

"Aye," Walden grunted. "What's yer plan, then?"

* * *

Evan came running up to the tea table and stopped just short of knocking the entire thing over. He had a huge grin on his face.

"I like snow, Madam Wilkes! It's super cool! Have I got back in time to have some tea?"

"Of course you are, Evan, unless you'd prefer to wait for supper. We're going to go back into Salem and meet some of your mother's friends."

"Can I have a scone right now?"

" _May_ you have a scone," Hermione automatically corrected, just before she took her last sip of tea.

"Oh, right, sorry. May I have a scone, please? Or two?" Evan looked eagerly at the pastries.

"You may," Lucinda said. "And after you're done, go wash up and change into some nicer robes."

"I noticed," Hermione mused, "that plenty of witches and wizards were wearing their robes on the street, and yet the town appeared to be mostly Muggle. Isn't anyone concerned about the Statute of Secrecy, or does it work differently here?"

"Oh," Lucinda replied. "Salem is well-known for its large population of eccentric types. The Muggles rather expect it. In fact, many of the individuals wearing robes are Muggles, so we hide in plain sight. Rather refreshing, I think, although it did take a bit getting used to, when I first moved here."

"Are we, er, meeting up with Auror Gundarsson again as well? He was a friend of, er, Evan's mother…." Hermione attempted to make the question sound casual by adding a hasty statement to the end of it, and failed.

Lucinda gave a small, knowing smile. "I'm not certain, but we could fire-call him, if you like?"

"No, that…er, won't be necessary."

"I can't blame you; I've always thought he was rather charming. And I'm nearly positive that he really was just friends with Mrs. Macnair," Lucinda said, as she lifted her wand and circled it in the air in order to gather the scattered tea things, after which she flicked it in the direction of a bell, which rang once.

"That, er…well…I…" Hermione was rather uncharacteristically unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Really, Hermione," Lucinda said. "You're intelligent, you're a hero, and you're young and attractive and you've spent too many years on the shelf waiting for that dreadful Weasley—thank Merlin he's out of the picture—to marry you. And would you have even really wanted that? Imagine, he'd have tied you down immediately to a home with too many children, because that's what he's used to…." She paused. "I _am_ sorry. Like most of us expatriates, I get a lot of my news from Witch Weekly and that awful gossip column in the Prophet."

Conversation paused as the maid entered the room and cleared away the tea things. When she'd left, Hermione nodded for Lucinda to continue.

"Anyhow, if it turns out that Walden has, in fact, turned, and isn't coming back to _his_ senses, you could do worse than an American Auror."

* * *

"I dunno, Yaxley," Walden said. "Nae sure I like a lot of this plan. I do like gettin' back at Hagrid, though, me shoulder's never been the same since he tossed me against tha' wall." He paused, during which he puffed a bit more on his pipe.

"Then we'll take out Hagrid first," Yaxley said. "Strike after dark. The students won't be on their way back until the end of the week. I'm loath to harm any children, even if they are Mudbloods. We're there to teach a lesson to any of those who stood against our Lord."

"Wouldna think there are many left after ten years," Walden said.

"There are, I've been paying close attention through the Prophet," Yaxley said, after which he took a long draught of whisky. "So let's assemble the team tomorrow and get it done." He stood up. "I'm going to get some sleep and I suggest you do as well."

* * *

As Hermione opened the door of the Flying Witch, a small bell rang twice, and she nodded politely at the woman behind the counter, who had exceedingly short, brightly colored hair. _Reminds me a bit of Tonks_ , she thought, with a smile.

"May I help you?" the shopkeeper asked, with an accent that placed her origins in the American South. _Interesting_ , thought Hermione.

"Yes, I'm Hermione Granger. Lucinda Wilkes and Evan Macnair will be right along, and we're supposed to have lunch with…er, Inanna Moonwomon and Rhiannon Whitefeather?"

The woman-obviously a witch—raised her eyebrows just a tiny bit. "I'm Inanna," she said, stepping out from behind the counter to shake Hermione's hand. "Very pleased to meet you."

Hermione smiled, and shook Inanna's hand, and then glanced around the store. There were several displays full of what appeared to be stylized space aliens, which were quite puzzling, but then again, she'd noticed that the American wizarding community had its own, rather eclectic, way of doing things.

"So, er, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what's the reason behind all the alien figurines?"

"Oh! I kinda forget about them, being around them most of the time, and all," Inanna drawled. "We get Muggles in here too, looking for souvenirs, and those are some of our best sellers—along with the Witch City t-shirts." She gestured at a rack of black t-shirts bearing the likeness of a stylized flying witch on a broomstick. "Rowan named the shop after that image and I've never changed it." After that last sentence, she nodded up at a picture behind the counter. It shimmered a bit as Hermione stared at it-it was obviously glamoured against Muggles. Instead of the tame landscape that had been in the frame, the picture showed three witches, all dressed in green, under a banner that read "The Salem Witches' Institute." They had their arms around each other and were laughing. One of them was Inanna, but her hair was green in the picture. The second was older, taller and rather overweight, with long graying hair, and wearing some sort of bright green robe. The third was wearing a shamrock-covered bowler hat and a Chudley Cannons shirt, both of which clashed quite abominably with her shoulder-length red hair. She also sported a silver snake pendant hanging around her neck.

"So, er, that's Evan's mother in that picture along with you and your other friend, isn't it?"

"Yup! My friends and I from the Institute went to the World Cup a few years ago—the one where the, erm…" she paused. Hermione had learned, through her brief discussion with Auror Gundarsson that American witches and wizards did not wish to discuss anything having to do with the Dark Lord, which personally suited her just fine. The witch made a very slight face, and then continued, "You know, where there was that, er, disturbance?"

"Yes, I was there, too, but we managed to escape the worst bit," Hermione said.

"Well, of course you did, I remember reading about that," Inanna said, with a smile. "That Golden Trio book is one of our best sellers, you know," she added.

"Yes, I've read it to Evan," Hermione said. "Bit weird, that, reading about yourself."

"I imagine so," Inanna said, as she reached under the counter for her messenger bag. "Rhiannon's in the back taking a nap—I'll go get her and the rest of the folks should get here by then, right?"

"I think so, Evan was looking at the Quodpot equipment in a window down the street."

A couple of hours later, Inanna and Hermione were laughing together like old friends, while Evan finished his second ice cream sundae, and Rhiannon and Lucinda, having discovered a mutual interest in gardening, were deep in a conversation about growing zones and how they effected magical plants.

"You know," Inanna said, abruptly changing the subject as she watched Evan devour his dessert, "I actually liked Macnair. He wasn't so bad when he was here."

"Apparently opinions vary," Hermione replied. "Auror Gundarsson wasn't a fan. He said he was here once?"

"He, er, was here for about a week, came to get Rowan when she—well…she'd left her, er, husband…you know about all that, right?"

"You mean Headmaster Snape?" Hermione said.

"Yeah, well, they were just handfasted, not married, I should say. He was all right, too, I guess…I met him at the World Cup—that's where I first saw Macnair, come to think of it…." Inanna looked down at her whisky. "It seems like a million years ago that all happened. I just wish she'd managed to escape. Eric said he left her a package with an emergency Portkey, and he always wondered what happened to it."

Hermione picked up her coffee cup and sipped at it slowly. "You know…I think I may have run across it. It was very odd, Walden and I were looking at Rowan's old wardrobe, and he couldn't face packing up her clothes, so I helped him, you know. It was rather mysterious, but I never felt right asking him about it. There were duplicates of a lot of clothes and a suitcase that was absolutely pulsating with magic…I bet the Portkey was in there!"

"Do you, er, do you know what happened, exactly? To her? I never did find the story in the Daily Prophet."

"I wasn't in court the day Walden testified about that, but Percy Weasley left me some notes. From what I recall, she stood up to Voldemort, told him that she wouldn't…er….you know. And he hit her with the _Avada_ right then and there, so she wouldn't have had any time to grab a Portkey." Hermione frowned. "After that night, Lucius assisted Walden in getting his children to safety in Australia, and I think he buried Rowan on the grounds of Malfoy Manor himself, but he's never specifically said. I suppose I could ask him."

"Lucius Malfoy?" Inanna said. "Really? Eric told me he was an insincere asshole."

At that, Lucinda, who'd apparently exhausted the subject of gardening, turned and stared at both of them, and said, "That is as may be, but he's done a lot of good behind the scenes, more than one would expect. Of course, there's always a price to be paid."


	31. Dripping with Alchemy

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

I found Travers' first name listed as Tobias on the HP Wiki, so I went with it. (There is supposed to be a Torquil Travers in the next Fantastic Beasts film, but given the timeline, I suspect that wizard would be substantially older, so I chose to not use that name.)

The title of this chapter is taken from "Heads will Roll" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 31 – Dripping with Alchemy**

"So I've come to understand," Hermione said, as she sat down her napkin. "Then again, I really can't complain, I have taken advantage of his hospitality and yours, Lucinda," she added.

"It is my pleasure, really," Lucinda said. "It's lovely to have some companionship other than the servants." She paused. "Lucius did tell me he was intending to visit here at some point this month."

"Uncle Lucius is coming?" Evan piped up. "He's always very nice to me."

"That's probably because you're not old enough to be useful to him yet, bubbeleh," Rhiannon said, as she sat down her spoon.

"What does that mean?" Evan asked.

"I'll try and explain that to you tomorrow, Evan," Hermione said. "It would take too long, and we probably need to get back before it gets any later." The crowd at the Crystal had swelled during dinner hour, and was currently slowly transforming into a more rowdy, late-night, drinking version of its earlier self. Much as Hermione relished a few drinks, particularly in the present moment, she also felt responsible for Evan, and so she, Lucinda and the boy headed back to the estate.

After Evan had been tucked into bed with an introductory book on spellwork (courtesy of the Flying Witch), Hermione and Lucinda, by mutual agreement, Summoned a couple of bottles of wine from the estate's capacious wine cellar and camped out in front of the library fireplace.

"So….what's this place actually called?" Hermione said, after she'd had a couple of drinks. "Malfoy East? Lucius' Folly? Or did you rename it?"

"It's actually called the Malfoy Estate," Lucinda said. "I never bothered to change it, isn't that funny? It's not as if Lucius visits much—of course I know he couldn't during the trials. He did arrange, during that time, for a packet of funds to be sent every month via his solicitor…and I suppose I did realize that we'd made that type of arrangement when our relationship started. I was looking for a convenient way to escape from Avery, and Lucius and I had been friends since school. After Walden ended our…er…relationship…." She paused after that, and looked at Hermione.

"It's all right," Hermione said. "You can talk about him if you want."

"Well, I was quite hurt when that happened, but as I mentioned before, he'd met Rowan by that time. The mysteries of love and attraction have yet to be quantified by the Ministry."

"Quite so," Hermione replied, with a frown, as she recalled the horrible scene outside the Minister's office.

"Anyhow," Lucinda continued. "I approached Lucius at the Revels. He and his wife were romantically estranged at that time—and I believe they still are…"

"As far as I'm aware," Hermione agreed.

"So we made a mutually beneficial arrangement. Avery wasn't about to go up against Lucius. I applied for a divorce, which was finalized after the failed Ministry raid, and I moved over here secretly, along with my daughter. Avery never tried to contact me again, which is just fine with me."

"I imagine so," Hermione said. "As I said to you before, I didn't relish having him on my docket."

The conversation drifted away from Death Eaters and into calmer waters—Transfiguration theory—and the two witches realized how much they had in common by the time they decided to turn in for the night.

Hermione thoroughly appreciated the luxury and comfort of the guest room, and decided to stay up reading a bit longer, which turned into several more hours of alertness. By the time she closed her eyes, night had just about started to give way to daybreak, so when the gentle knocking came at her door the next morning, she didn't hear it right away. The knocking became more insistent, and she woke with a start, realizing that she must have put a light Silencing Charm on the door. She reluctantly climbed out of bed, ran her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to corral the errant strands, and donned her robe before opening the door.

"Hermione," Lucinda said, with an odd look on her face. "Lucius is here visiting…a bit earlier than I expected. And he brought news. Avery is dead."

* * *

Walden waved his wand over his tent and muttered several spells—the tent obligingly rose into the air and gracefully set itself up, after which a fire pit appeared in the ground next to it. Next, he waved his wand at the fire pit and a blaze appeared, then four sturdy camp chairs appeared and settled themselves into the grass in an orderly semicircle.

Yaxley, Travers, and Selwyn, meanwhile, were pacing about the clearing, attempting to set up protective boundaries on the camp, and not doing a very good job of it. Selwyn's wand made a rather rude sort of fizzing noise, then emitted a loud pop, after which a swarm of large, animated goldfish began swimming through the air and entangling themselves in the three wizards' hair and robes.

After Walden had assisted in clearing away the fish, he stood with the rest of the group and finished up the protective enchantments. Once the last boundary had been established, a raven spiraled into being and flew up to Walden's shoulder.

"So what makes you so special, Walden?" Travers asked, while glaring at the bird. "Your magic seems to work just fine, even with your restricted wand."

"Ye just have to know how to work it," Walden said. "O'course, I recall how ye always were at the Revels…nae wonder ye're still havin' problems…."

"Fuck off!" Travers barked. "I've never had a problem with _either_ of my wands."

"It's all a numbers game," Selwyn interjected. "The restricted wands are set up to fail twenty-five percent of the time, and that time is random. Macnair's just got lucky."

"Let's hope that luck holds out through tomorrow," Yaxley said. "We should all turn in; I've found these wands work much better when one's alert."

"'M going to have some whisky and a smoke," Walden grunted. "Just because we're infiltratin' the school doesna mean we have to tuck in ta bed like a bunch of firsties." He strode over to the chair on the far left, sat down, withdrew a flask and his pipe, and proceeded to indulge himself. The rest of the wizards followed.

"I do wish we'd have been able to get those Snatchers on board with this," Travers said, as he took the seat on the far end of the grouping from Walden. "Not happy with these odds." He waved his wand and Summoned a bottle of Firewhisky from his cloak.

"It's not as if we're going up against Dumbledore," Yaxley said, settling himself down next to Walden and pulling out his own flask. "That one Snatcher said Flitwick, Sprout and Hagrid were the only ones back until the weekend."

"How do we know we can trust him?" Selwyn asked, as he reached into his robe pocket for his flask and then sat down between Yaxley and Travers.

"I've told you. He's on our side, he just needs to stay undercover for now, which is beneficial to us, so there's no point in looking a gift thestral in the mouth."

"Speakin' of thestrals…" Walden said, with a look in Yaxley's direction.

"I'm hoping you'll be the one to take the lead with Hagrid," Yaxley said.

"Because that went so _very_ well last time," Travers said, with a sneer.

"Screw ye," Walden said. "We'll be surprisin' him."

"The element of surprise will hardly trump the fact that he outweighs all of us and is as tall as that tree over there," Travers said, gesturing in the direction of a leafless sapling.

"So we all hit him at once with Stunners," Selwyn said. "Done deal. What then?"

"Walden steps in and does his part, and then, er, we send up a Dark Mark," Yaxley said. "Then we head for the school and take the other two out."

"Sure you want to bother with them? They're old and harmless," Selwyn said. The other three looked at him.

"Were you knocked out during the final battle?" Yaxley asked. "Flitwick is a dueling champion and Sprout single-handedly brought down most of the Snatchers with armfuls of deadly plants. They're hardly harmless!"

"Of course, you have to stick up for a fellow Badger, Corban," Selwyn chuckled. "I'll be sure to watch out for deadly plants and miniature duelists."

"If you're not going to take this seriously, you can just bugger off back home and have a wank, or whatever it is you've been doing for the last few months," Yaxley replied, after which he took a long swig off the bottle that Travers offered him.

"I've been eating full meals and wanking off in the shower, not that it's any of your business," Selwyn said. "And drinking a lot, and enjoying long sleeps in a real bed….and avoiding Lucius' owls on a regular basis."

"Come to think of it, wouldn't it make much more sense to take out Lucius, so we can put a stop to that poncy Alliance business?" Travers said. "Rather than attacking a bunch of Muggle-lovers who're close to retirement?"

"Like I said before, Tobias," Yaxley said. "I'm in charge and this is the plan."

Walden released a large puff of smoke. "I'm with ye, Corban," he said, after a rather long pause.

"Fine," Travers said. "Two blood traitors and a half-breed less works for me."

Several hours later, after the contents of all the flasks and bottles had been repeatedly drained (and magically replenished, mostly by Walden), the Resurgence members were well and thoroughly sloshed. They'd shouted "HAIL THE RESURGENCE" and sent green sparks in the air for about fifteen minutes straight, sung several verses of "Odo the Hero" (with particular emphasis on the part about Odo's wand being snapped in twain), and practiced sending Dark Marks into the nearby trees.

"Er…" Yaxley finally stood up, after he'd contemplated the fire for so long that he was beginning to get hypnotized by the flames. "We really should go off to bed. No clue what time it is…weren't we wanting to start the attack at dawn?"

"It's yer plan, brother," Walden said. "Ye said ye were in charge."

"Right…right…" Yaxley replied, as he swayed back and forth where he stood. "Er…everyone check your watches, then…." He fumbled in his robe pocket before finally pulling out his watch, which was chiming. "Shite….looks like we have about two hours to rest up….er…so everyone rest up now…" He reached up and rubbed his eyes.

Travers stood up. "I'm taking that larger room."

"It's _my_ soddin' tent, Travers," Walden said. "Ye can have the couch."

"What about that second room with the two beds in it?"

"Already called dibs," Selwyn said. "So did I," Yaxley chimed in.

"Fuck the lot of you," Travers growled, as he flipped up the tent flap.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a secure meeting room on the top floor of the Ministry, a raven spiraled into life in the midst of the conference table.


	32. Your Precious Fence

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

In this particular chapter, Walden appears not so much like Joe Mangianello as the actor Angus Macfadyen, who plays Robert Rogers on "Turn."

The chapter title is taken from "Wild," by Poe. (Her "Haunted" album was the inspiration, back in 2001, for my original Snapefic. Go figure.)

Feel free to leave a further review in the box at the end of the chapter...on with the show!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 32 – Your Precious Fence**

" _Avery is dead."_

After this surprising revelation, Hermione dressed hurriedly and ran a wand twice over her hair to put it in a loose topknot. She wasted no time in heading downstairs after that—although she could have Apparated, she preferred, in this case, to take the time to compose herself before meeting with Lucius.

Lucius, Lucinda, and Evan were sitting around the table being served breakfast when she located them. Lucius was having a rather animated conversation with Evan, so he didn't take notice of her right away, but Lucinda gestured her toward the chair directly next to him.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Lucius said, as she got closer to the chair, after which he jumped up, bowed, pulled out the chair for her, and waited until she was settled. "I am delighted by your presence here today. Evan and I have just been discussing Hogwarts and how very much he's looking forward to it…especially the Sorting."

"I told him I want to be a Gryffindor!" Evan said.

"Yes, well, the world needs Lions, too, I suppose," Lucius said, as he picked up his tea cup and examined it.

"May I please be excused, Miz Wilkes?" Evan asked. "I'm all done with my breakfast!"

"Yes, of course, Evan," Lucinda said; the boy wasted no time in jumping from his seat and dashing out of the room.

"So very like his father," Lucius mused. "Miss Granger, may I presume upon you to put up some privacy barriers?"

After Hermione had flicked her wand in the air, Lucius cleared his throat.

"I assume you've heard the news I brought," and he nodded in Hermione's direction, who nodded, after accepting the coffee pot which Lucinda had just floated toward her. "It hasn't hit the _Prophet_ yet, but I was given to understand that it would be in the evening edition. Since that won't reach you all until the morrow, I thought it best to bring the tidings myself. Lucinda, apparently Herbert never removed you from his will, so as his sole inheritor, you are now the proud owner of a house in Cheshire. It's a horrid place—I recommend you dispose of it forthwith."

"Would you be so kind as to handle that sale for me?" Lucinda said, without missing a beat.

"As always, I am at your service, my dear." Lucius nodded in her direction and poured himself a cup of tea. "Shall I contact Cynthia, or do you wish to do that on your schedule?"

"I'll send her an owl today. Would you have any details as to how it happened?"

"He didn't report in for his volunteer shift at St. Mungo's. The Healer in charge of his case contacted the Ministry. Aurors were dispatched, and they found…er, a bit of scorched earth at the scene, with trace evidence of his essence. His house-elves, who he'd just hired through the Placement Agency, were interviewed—one of them said they saw a flash of light and some smoke. His wand was found, snapped in two, and after a Scanner that revealed the connection was broken, he was pronounced dead."

"Are there any suspects?" Hermione asked.

"None have been mentioned." Lucius paused to take a sip of tea.

"And do you have news of….anyone else?" Lucinda asked.

"I'm afraid I cannot have such news," Lucius replied, softly, after which the trio spent several minutes glancing at each other. Hermione drank her coffee down quickly and poured another for herself.

"Cannot…." she murmured, after she'd sipped about a half-cup's worth. "I understand." She looked at Lucinda. "Are you similarly…bound?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"An Unbreakable Vow," Hermione said.

"I haven't taken one of those in years," Lucinda replied. Both glanced at Lucius, who had an inscrutable look on his face. Hermione continued. "It must have been done at the Ministry just before you spoke with me. And it must have been between you and Walden, because you were there when he came out…and he must be doing this, I think….possibly, to protect me."

"That would be very like him," Lucinda interjected.

"He did tell me once….well…that he was only cruel when he was fighting…or some such…" Hermione looked down at her plate, on which a single scone now rested, and let her mind drift back to that afternoon in Australia.

 _"I guess I'm tellin' ye because I want ye ta know I'm nae like that Weasley, I willna play with yer heart. They said I was cruel in the trials, I know ye heard that bit. And I can be, when I'm fightin' and huntin'. I canna change that."_

"And you must have done some other charm on me, possibly a Confundus, to stop me figuring all this out. Walden's hunting, isn't he? He's hunting down those Death Eaters…the ones from Orla's docket…the ones who never recanted." Hermione looked triumphant, as if she'd ridden into battle alongside Walden like a Valkyrie.

Lucius remained silent; the only noise he made in response was the sound of his teaspoon as he stirred sugar into his tea.

* * *

Morale was not high at the de facto headquarters of the Resurgence when the four wizards were awoken by repeated, insistent chiming from all of their pocketwatches.

"Bloody hell!" Travers groaned. He'd not even properly got to sleep because the couch in the tent's sitting room wasn't long enough to fit him. There'd also been lots of odd noises surrounding the tent keeping him awake, even though he was positive that one or all of his comrades had cast Muffliato.

 _All the spells couldn't have failed at once, could they have?_ he thought to himself, as he slowly stood up and rubbed what little sleep he had gotten out of his eyes. He blinked several times and observed Selwyn and Yaxley stumbling out of the second bedroom door, and Macnair following closely behind them. Macnair was the only one among them who appeared to be in any sort of shape to mount an attack. He was wearing one of those damned kilts, high boots, a heavy dragonhide jacket, and a hat with a pompom atop it that might have looked poncy on anyone else…but Travers knew to not call Walden out on it.

Instead, he managed to croak out, "Nice skirt, _Wally_."

"Nae even gonna dignify that with a response, _Toby_ ," Walden said, giving the hated nickname a little extra sneer. "Get yer arse outside so I can take down me tent…hope ye didna piss all over me couch."

"I went outside to piss, you stupid git. And it was bloody well loud out there…wolves or something…went on for ages."

"Didna hear a thing, slept like a babby."

"I heard them as well, Tobias," Selwyn said, as he rummaged through the cupboards.

"What the hell are ye lookin' for, Selwyn?" Walden snapped.

"A glass, so I can have some water…."

"Just do Aguamenti and slurp it off the end of yer wand, should be easy enough for ye to handle," Walden said, as he lifted up the tent flap to reveal the first, very faint stirrings of daylight. "All of ye need to get yer arses outside now!"

"Keep it down, Walden," Yaxley's voice was so hoarse that he was nearly whispering. "Come along, brothers, let's not squabble." The four wizards filed out of the tent. Travers walked over to a nearby bush, lifted his robe, and began urinating. Selwyn cast Aguamenti and soaked his face, hair and most of his robe in the process. Yaxley leaned against a tree face first, groaned, and after Walden had packed up the tent and chairs and restored the clearing to its former appearance, asked, "You wouldn't have any Hangover Potion, would you?"

"Already drank me last bottle, sorry," Walden said, as he stashed his wand in its holster.

"Bloody hell…" Yaxley groused. "Don't mention drinking."

"I feel like shite," Travers said. "Why don't we just Apparate out of here?"

"Not bloody likely, I'd Splinch myself the way I feel….let's just get this over with," Selwyn said.

"Quit yer whingin', ye numpties!" Walden yelled.

"How far are we from the school, anyway?" Selwyn asked.

"About ten minutes' walk, it's around the next bend of that loch," Walden said, pointing off to the left. "Didna ye notice when we came here last night?"

"Don't recall," Selwyn said, as he shook his head to get the water out of his ears. "I s'pose we'd best get to it."

"Are we gonna pass Hogsmeade?" Yaxley asked. "I could summon some Hangover Potion from the Broomsticks."

"And give away our position?" Travers spat. "Such sterling logistics from the former head of the MLE. It's a wonder the Ministry's got along without you for all these years…."

"Sod off, Toby," Yaxley croaked. "My head feels like it's been split in two and put back together with Spellotape."

"We're nae passin' Hogsmeade, this is supposed to be a surprise attack, aye," Walden said, rolling his eyes. "Let's go."

"At this point you could probably breathe on Hagrid and knock him down, Corban," Travers said, as he began walking behind Walden, who was striding away swiftly, yet quietly.


	33. Well-Hung with a Snow-White Tan

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

This chapter's title is dedicated to Lucius and comes from the David Bowie song "Ziggy Stardust."

I haven't heard from my trusty reviewers in a while, so I hope you are enjoying things. We're getting closer to the end of this tale. Excelsior!

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 33 – Well-Hung with a Snow-White Tan**

Hermione chose to retire to the library for several hours after breakfast; she was not disturbed until the chime rang for lunch, which was a largely silent affair (except for Evan's random chatter). Lucius was not present; he was taking a rest to relieve Portkey lag.

After lunch, Lucinda took her aside and told her that she would be leaving from the Portkey Office in Salem to visit her daughter in California, having decided that sending an owl, even with the sure-to-be welcome news of Avery's demise, was not the proper thing to do.

"If you prefer, I'd be glad to arrange lodging for you and Evan in Salem while I'm gone," she added.

"That…er, won't be necessary…of course, if you'd prefer we not stay here, that's your prerogative," Hermione stammered.

"Oh! I'm sorry, that's not at all what I was implying. I meant, of course, that you might not want to stay here with Lucius."

"Really, I'm sure it will be fine," Hermione said. "He hasn't informed me of his plans, but I assumed he'd be heading home soon enough. Plus, Evan seems to enjoy his company."

"Yes, I'd noticed that. Would you two wish to accompany me to Salem to see me off?"

"That would be very nice; I'm sure Evan would enjoy it."

It turned out that Evan was very happy to go along, not only because he enjoyed any kind of travel, but also because he was hoping to check out the sporting supplies store and the toy store again. After they'd seen Lucinda off, they headed to the Flying Witch. Hermione wanted to get one of the alien figurines as a gift for Ginny. While there, Inanna invited Evan to Rhiannon's weekly movie night and sleepover, a tradition that allowed Salem's single magical parents to have a well-deserved night off.

Thus, later that evening, Hermione happily ensconced herself in a chair in front of the fireplace with a book and a glass of brandy.

She'd gotten through about two chapters when Lucius entered the room and quietly cleared his throat to let her know he was there.

"Oh, good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, politely, as she marked her place and then sat the book down.

"There's no need to stand on ceremony now, my dear," Lucius said, as he sat down in the chair next to her. She noticed he was also holding a glass of brandy and was in a mild state of dishabille—wearing a lounging robe, with his hair loose and hanging over his shoulders. It was an appealing sight, which Hermione was sure was entirely calculated. "I've given the servants the night off, and I'm aware that Evan stayed over in Salem." He then looked her directly in the eyes. "I must say I am very pleased _you_ decided to stay here this evening."

 _Of course you are_ , Hermione thought. _And I suppose I knew this was coming. I'm sure he's spent his required time with Lucinda, and I'm lonely and bored, to be honest, so really, where is the harm?_ She merely replied, "But of course, Lucius."

"I…understand that you may be somewhat reticent to indulge in pleasure with me, given that Walden isn't here. I can assure you that I will be very discreet." He sat his brandy glass on the side table.

"I do appreciate that. I'm not entirely sure that Walden and I will ever have a relationship again, and I also know that you can't even begin to opine on that without…repercussion, so my suggestion is that we put that subject aside for the time being and simply enjoy ourselves."

"I was hoping you'd be of that opinion," Lucius said, as he stood up, walked over to Hermione's chair, plucked the brandy glass from her hand, took her hands, and pulled her into an embrace in one very smooth motion…. _which he'd likely practiced_ , she thought, but she didn't care. Several minutes of heated kisses led to him murmuring in her ear that she needed to Apparate them upstairs post-haste.

It turned out that Lucius had prepared well for his journey to America—he'd packed a number of pleasure potions, as well as contraceptive potions; Hermione downed both, figuring that she was better safe than sorry.

They spent hours in Lucius' master suite in mindless blissful pleasure, in the bed, in the tub and once up against the dresser when they got too heated to make it back to the bed. He worshiped every inch of her body and didn't ask for anything in return. They dashed to the kitchen for a midnight snack, which became an erotic food adventure. They spoke very little, and when the interlude finally ended, she stayed with him, reluctant to give up human contact, illusory and fleeting as it might be.

When the first tendrils of light began snaking their way through a tiny gap in the curtains, Hermione awoke abruptly. Lucius was splayed out over the pillows on the far side of the bed, snoring quietly, which she found amusing. His hair, however, was still as smooth as it appeared during daylight hours, which she found mildly irritating. She Summoned her robe, got up, donned the robe, quietly padded over to the window, and slid the curtains open a slight bit wider.

There was a large, unblinking black eye looking at her. She gasped and pulled at the curtain to reveal a raven.

"Bloody hell," she said, without thinking too much about it, and, behind her, Lucius stirred and sat up.

"What's the matter, my dear—," Lucius began, and as he said that, she heard the rustling of the covers and his soft footfalls, but he stopped, clearly having also seen the raven.

"Oh…" Hermione said, as the raven continued to stare. She was sure it had taken in the scene before it in excruciating detail, and as both of them watched, the raven turned, spread its wings, and flapped away toward the distance.

They looked at each other.

"I know you can't say anything," Hermione said, after a long pause. Lucius nodded once, sharply, in response.

* * *

The Resurgence members made their way over the rocky ground to the meadow overlooking Hogwarts as the sky progressively grew lighter.

"We've completely buggered our element of surprise," Travers groused, as he nearly tripped over a stone.

"So what?" Yaxley replied. "We have the advantage in terms of skill…" he paused, realizing that he'd contradicted his previous statements. "Don't say it, Selwyn!"

"I wasn't going to mention anything," Selwyn whined. "Other than that I'm still thirsty."

Walden abruptly turned around and cast Aguamenti directly at Selwyn's face. "Shut yer geggie!" he growled, toward the spluttering man.

"That wasn't necessary, Macnair," Selwyn said, after he'd dried himself off with a flick of his wand.

"Aye it was," Walden grunted. "We're here. What now, Yaxley?"

"Well….er….I suppose we could all Apparate directly to Hagrid's hut," Yaxley replied, in an extremely non-committal way.

"Fine," Walden said. "Everyone hang on to me, then, unless ye want to get Splinched." Once they landed, Selwyn muttered, "I miss the old way of Apparating, with the black smoke and such." Travers punched him in the arm. Walden held up his hand and waved it to get them to keep quiet as they approached the stone steps and large wooden door.

"You'd think he would have tried improving the place," Selwyn muttered again. Travers punched him in the arm again.

"Stand back, ye numpties, he's due to come out any minute ta feed the thestrals," Walden said, as he pointed his wand directly at the door, and intoned, "Reducto!" The door exploded into myriad wood fragments. Hagrid appeared immediately, brandishing a pink umbrella and yelling at the four wizards, "What th'….get away from me house, ye blackguards!" Spotting Macnair, he shouted, "What the hell are ye doing here! I knew ye was a bad 'un!" He barreled through the door, knocking over Selwyn, who seemed to be hypnotized by the umbrella. "This is for Hermione!" he yelled, as he swung a giant fist in Walden's direction; Walden flicked his wand and Hagrid was yanked up into the air by one foot—the umbrella slipped out of his hands, and Yaxley snatched it up. Walden said, "Leave the lass out of this!"

"HELP!" Hagrid yelled, and the wizards heard the sounds of wings flapping; Yaxley glanced up and glimpsed the thestral herd, who were circling the trees, preparing to come in for a landing.

"Silencio!" Walden intoned, pointing his wand at Hagrid, who was rendered mute. Yaxley pointed his wand at Hagrid and shouted "Incarcerous!" As Hagrid was bound up by the magical ropes, Travers yelled, "Look there!" Loud, pounding footsteps were sounding and the trees were shaking. Selwyn was still in the process of getting to his feet, swaying in a punch-drunk fashion.

"It's th' other giant, Hagrid's brother," Walden said. "What's the plan, Yaxley?"

"Er…" Yaxley muttered, looking decidedly planless as he clutched the umbrella.

"Never mind about that," Selwyn muttered. "Looks like we're caught," he added, as he fell over again in a dead faint.

"What?" Yaxley and Travers glanced at Selwyn. "What do you mean?" Travers asked.

The magically amplified voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt intoned, "Drop your wands. Hands in the air where I can see them." Fifteen MLE officers surrounded the group.


	34. Sweet Surrender of Silence

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

This chapter's title comes from "Deep Blue Sea" by Missio.

No clue if there is really an Unbreakable Vow conclusion ceremony in canon….so I wrote one.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 34 – Sweet Surrender of Silence**

The trials of the Resurgence members were far shorter than the Death Eater trials had been, chiefly because all of them were in violation of their paroles.

Selwyn's barrister attempted to plea-bargain on his behalf, and since he'd been out of commission for most of the failed raid, he was placed on house arrest rather than sent back to Azkaban. His wand, however, was snapped, and he was advised that he might be able to acquire a restricted wand again in 5 years, contingent on good behavior. (Secretly, he entertained hopes of one day carrying an umbrella like Hagrid's.)

Both Travers and Yaxley chose to not engage barristers; Travers was sent back to Azkaban for another five-year stint, and Yaxley, due to being the mastermind of the Resurgence, was sentenced to a further ten years.

Meanwhile, Walden returned to the Ministry to meet with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry Potter. The room was warded with the most potent protective spells that the nameless Department of Mysteries functionary, who silently waited in the corner of the room, had been able to formulate.

Kingsley stood up when Walden was escorted into the room by two MLE lesser functionaries, who turned on their heels and departed immediately.

"Mr. Macnair. You have performed admirably on our behalf, and while I do have a _few_ questions about Herbert Avery's demise, given what you told us in our previous meeting, it sounds as if justice was served."

"Aye, Minister," Walden said.

"You have satisfied the terms of our Vow," Kingsley continued. "Harry, as our Bonder, do you agree?"

"I agree," Harry said.

The mysterious functionary walked over to Walden and the Minister, who then knelt down and clasped hands. Harry stood next to them, and the functionary waved his wand over the pair. A shimmering golden light enveloped the entire party, after which the functionary stated, " _Quod factum est_." The light slowly diminished, after which the two wizards stood up and shook hands.

"I'll have the paperwork drawn up for your full pardon," Kingsley said. "I'd prefer that we keep that under wraps for now, though, just in case some of our double-agents managed to convince anyone to actually join the cause."

"I'd prefer that as well," Walden said.

"Oh, and you'll need to get Mr. Malfoy back here to end your Vow with him, unless you prefer to do that on your own," Kingsley said.

"Mr. Potter," Walden asked. "Would you be available when Lucius returns to England?"

"He's not at the Manor?" Harry said, looking very confused.

"Nay, he's at his Connecticut estate," Walden said.

"How—er…how do you know that?"

"Me ravens," Walden said.

"They can track all the way to the States?"

"They're magical, Mr. Potter."

* * *

Hermione and Lucius sat across from each other at the lunch table. They hadn't had much conversation since the raven departed. After they finished their meal, they lingered over coffee. Lucius said, "I…er, believe I need to return to England, likely as soon as possible. I'll be heading to the Salem Portkey Office in a few minutes."

"I hope this means I might be hearing….news soon."

"Possibly," Lucius said, as he sat down his napkin, and then stood up. "It's been a pleasure, my dear, as always. I'll see myself out."

Hermione donned her winter wear after Lucius' departure, and spent several hours in the cold, exploring the property. There were no birds of any kind in sight.

Later that evening, Inanna brought Evan back, and the three spent a relaxing few hours by the fire playing cards and drinking hot chocolate….and for the next two weeks, this sort of relaxation was the order of the day, both at the estate and in Salem. Hermione found that she enjoyed the looser educational atmosphere at the Salem Witches Institute, and she even sat in on a couple of classes. She also (under a glamour, just in case) assisted Inanna at the Flying Witch, and sat in on some late-night poker games at the Cloudy Crystal.

One night, Auror Gundarsson escorted her to a small wizarding blues club in New York City, which she enjoyed tremendously. He was a perfect gentleman, and did not attempt to kiss her at the end of the night—and she wasn't sure whether she liked that or not.

The subject of Walden did not come up until an owl arrived from Lucinda, precisely two weeks to the day after she'd departed for California.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I am enjoying California tremendously! The Information Processing community is one of the most unique groups of wizards I've ever been pleased to meet. We've been going on all sorts of hiking trips and wine-tasting adventures, and I have decided to take an extended sabbatical out here, and stay in my daughter's guest cottage._

 _I hope I can confide in you thusly—I've met a wizard, and he was enthused when I expressed interest in relocating here—I am hopeful that he might be 'the one,' but even if he is not, if you would please not convey this information to Lucius until it is absolutely necessary, I would be in your debt._

 _Please feel free to stay at the estate for as long as you wish—simply send an owl letting me know when you are departing. Give Evan a hug for me and do wish him the very best for his upcoming Hogwarts sojourn. (I have enclosed some Galleons for him to purchase his familiar!)_

 _With great affection,_

 _Lucinda Wilkes_

After Hermione sat down the letter, she called Evan to her side.

"Ms. Wilkes will be staying in California for a while, but she sent you some money to purchase your owl, or whichever animal you'd prefer, for Hogwarts."

"Oh wow! Should I write her back? I think I want an owl, so I can write letters to Sissy and Auntie Melissa and you and Mrs. Weasley!" He accepted the pouch of Galleons from Hermione with a smile and stowed them in his robe pocket.

"An owl is a very practical choice," Hermione said. "I had a cat when I was in school, because my parents are Muggles and owl post was problematic, but I always loved Harry's owl."

"What happened to them? Do you still have them?"

"Unfortunately, my cat went missing, and Harry's owl…well, she died. During the war." Hermione looked down at the letter again.

"It wasn't my dad who killed them when he was a bad guy, was it? He said he used to…umm…dispose of dangerous animals, or something?"

"I don't think so, Evan." She paused and then said, "Do you want to go into Salem and catch a Portkey home tomorrow?"

"Yes! I miss everyone!" He paused for a moment and bit his lip, and then said, "Um, do you think we'll ever hear from my dad again? I really miss him."

"Honestly, so do I." She hadn't given any thought to where she was going to live once she got back, although she knew that she was, of course, welcome at Harry and Ginny's guest suite.

"If he comes back, are you going to marry him?"

"That's something that I can't answer right now." Hermione Summoned parchment and a quill to write a return owl, figuring that since Lucinda was a member of wizarding society, that she had better follow protocol.

"That's what my Sissy says when she means No," Evan said, and he looked a bit dejected as he ran out of the room, en route, no doubt, to pack.

* * *

Lucius, Walden and Harry stood in the Drawing Room at Malfoy Manor, where Walden and Lucius had been staying for the past two weeks. It had taken quite a while to get this particular event onto Harry's calendar, given the sheer volume of paperwork that the Resurgence trials and their aftermath had generated. Due to all the sleepless nights, he'd taken a weekend off and stayed in a bed-and-breakfast with Ginny with an eye to, hopefully, adding to their small family.

"Once the Department of Mysteries wizard gets here, we can get this over with," Harry said, smiling. He was extremely happy, but, sadly, his good mood was lost on the other two wizards, who'd been on a nearly-constant drinking binge ever since they'd given their testimony about the Resurgence. They'd finally downed several bottles of Pepper-Up Potion and spent a day in Lucius' sauna to get ready for the appointment. Walden's eyes were still bleary and his hair was slowly growing back in, owing to his failure to renew the Stasis Charm.

"Great," Walden finally growled.

Several uncomfortable minutes later, a chime rang, announcing the arrival of the nameless wizard, who entered the room and stood silently.

"Lucius, me brother," Walden said. "Ye've satisfied the terms of our Vow. Mr. Potter, do ye agree?"

"I agree," Harry said.

The mysterious functionary walked over to Walden and Lucius, who then knelt down and clasped hands. Harry stood next to them, and the functionary waved his wand over the pair.

Nothing happened.

"What the hell is goin' on?" Walden asked. "Yaxley and the rest of the damned numpties are under arrest and the lass is safe…." and after he said that, he doubled over, blanched, and began coughing.

"STOP TALKING IMMEDIATELY!" shouted the Department of Mysteries wizard. "Something is wrong." He reached in his robe and pulled out a shimmering green bottle of potion. "Drink this, Mr. Macnair. And Mr. Malfoy, keep your mouth shut about the Vow!"

"What's wrong?" Harry said. "I don't understand!" Meanwhile, Walden had grabbed the bottle in his trembling hands and downed it, after which he began sweating and panting. Lucius assisted him over to the settee and called for a house elf.

"The terms of the Vow have not been satisfied. Something has changed," said the functionary.

"What?!" Harry shouted. "Lower the wards, Malfoy, I've got to get back to the office and find out what's going on!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Corban Yaxley, under several glamours, dressed as a witch, debarked from the Salem Flyer and walked into the Cloudy Crystal.


	35. A Perfect Line

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Rodion Raskolnikov is the protagonist of the novel Crime and Punishment.

 _Quid, Me Anxius Sum_ translates to "What, Me Worry?" and is the catchphrase of Alfred E. Neuman of MAD Magazine fame.

The Flying Saucer Pizza Company actually exists in Salem, MA.

The title of this chapter is taken from "This Life," the theme to "Sons of Anarchy."

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 35 – A Perfect Line**

 _Meanwhile, Corban Yaxley, under several glamours, dressed as a witch, debarked from the Salem Flyer and walked into the Cloudy Crystal._

He quickly surveyed the pub with the practiced eye of a former law enforcement professional. As it was just now dinner hour, the crowd was sparse. He recognized nobody, which suited him just fine. When the hostess came up, he asked for a table toward the back of the room with a chair facing the door, as he was waiting for several associates. He'd talked to several American witches and wizards and had been assured that while New York was a much larger city, most of the community passed through Salem, and the Crystal, at least once a week. A series of rapid Confundus charms, in addition to the glamours, further assured his anonymity.

He'd had a worst-case scenario escape plan in place ever since he'd formulated the idea of the Resurgence. During his tenure as head of the MLE, he'd amassed a surprising amount of information on various key Ministry employees, and stored it in a secure location. After his release from Azkaban, he'd quickly retrieved the information and sifted through it. Ten years and a regime change had made most of it obsolete, as he'd expected. However, he struck pay dirt in one of the last folders he perused, concerning a Department of Mysteries operative, who went by the rather ironic code name of Rodion. During Voldemort's reign, the operative had branched out into the Muggle underworld and offered his services to the Russian Mafia, who had eagerly accepted.

After he received parole, Yaxley tailed the operative from the Ministry using an Invisibility Cloak that he'd stored along with the files and a spare, untraceable (at least by the Ministry) wand. The operative had correctly assumed that his Ministry job allowed him anonymity among wizardkind, but in the Muggle world, he was a bit sloppy—he headed regularly to the East End establishment where the gangsters had their headquarters, and didn't even bother to disguise himself, which was a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, for starters.

One Imperio and a threatened Avada later, Yaxley had an Unspeakable in his pocket, who, once the Resurgence trials had ended, used an illegal Time-Turner to break him out of Azkaban, handed him the very useful information on Malfoy's and Granger's whereabouts, and finally, gave him an unauthorized Portkey to America.

As he sipped his water and glanced at the menu, he frowned. He'd have to take out both Lucius and the Mudblood…and of course, Walden, who'd sold him out….but he did not relish the idea of killing Walden's children, because, after all, they were Purebloods, and they were hardly responsible for their father's perfidy.

He concluded that he would simply have to play that part by ear.

* * *

Harry Potter rubbed his eyes and adjusted his Cloak as he and Dawlish approached Selwyn's house. He saw no lights in the windows, and motioned Dawlish to the back door. Both pounded on their respective entrances at roughly the same time, shouting "AUROR DEPARTMENT! SURPRISE INSPECTION! OPEN UP!"

About five minutes later, when Harry was debating whether he should hit the door with a Bombarda, a much-disheveled Selwyn opened the door. There was a strong aroma of Firewhisky surrounding him, and his robe appeared to be on backward.

"Mishter Potter," Selwyn slurred. "To…er, what do I owe the pleasure?"

Meanwhile, Kingsley and Proudfoot had used the Floo Network directly to the Azkaban warden's office. After a short, rather contentious conversation, they were escorted directly to the high-security cells where Travers and Yaxley resided. Travers seemed rather annoyed at having his nap interrupted. Yaxley, of course, was not in residence, a fact which was rather distressing to all three wizards.

Not long after that, Kingsley, Harry, and the other two Aurors Apparated directly into Malfoy Manor. Lucius did not seem surprised by the intrusion, and immediately called for the house elves to bring refreshments. Walden had been pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace ever since Potter had departed, and had refilled the contents of his pipe several times.

* * *

Evan and Hermione spent one last lovely, relaxing evening at the estate, playing Exploding Snap in front of the fire, and eating too many freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. The next morning, they awoke early and headed into Salem. Hermione confirmed the Portkey that she'd booked by owl the previous evening, so they spent the rest of the day visiting the Institute and the Flying Witch. Inanna ordered a couple of pies from the Flying Saucer Pizza Company for an early lunch; she got a discount owing to having supplied the restaurant with a mass quantity of alien figurines.

"When Rhiannon gets back, if you don't mind, we'd love to take you two to the Crystal for a farewell drink and dessert…or food, if there's enough time before your Portkey."

"I got us on the red-eye," Hermione said. "It leaves at 11, and they want us there by 10:30."

"Loads of time, then," Inanna said. "I'll get on the horn and make sure we have a nice big crowd to see you off." She walked toward the fireplace at the back of the shop, tossed in some Floo Powder, and fire-called the Institute.

A few hours later, accompanied by Rhiannon and a short wizard wearing a tie-dye robe, Hermione, Evan and Inanna closed up the shop and ambled down the road to the Cloudy Crystal. It was a brisk evening with a hint of snow in the air, and everyone was bundled up, so the toasty atmosphere of the pub was a welcome respite. Cerridwen got everyone seated at a round table in the back of the pub; the only other person in the section was a witch, who was eating a sandwich while intently reading the New York Ghost.

"There's a couple more coming," Inanna said, as Cerridwen handed round waters, which had appeared on her serving tray.

"No problem, I'll send them back," she replied, as she turned to the witch, who was signaling for a drink refill.

Everything seemed to happen all at once after that. The witch at the next table stood up and walked directly over to Hermione, and asked, in a rather strident, British-accented voice, if she was "The Mudblood Granger."

Hermione stood up, but didn't say anything right away, as she was quite shocked. Inanna said, as she stood up next to Hermione, "Hey, there's no call for that type of language!"

"Sod off, you filthy Mudblood," said the witch. "This is none of your business."

"It most certainly is our business." Rhiannon had also stood up and walked around the table so that she was in between the British witch and Hermione. "I think it's time for you to leave."

The witch whipped a wand out and knocked both Inanna and Rhiannon off their feet with a wordless spell. "Stay out of this! Outside, Mudblood!" and she pointed her wand at Hermione.

Hermione, of course, was pointing her wand right back. "I'll come out with you if you agree to leave my friends alone."

Evan jumped to his feet and ran around the table. "Leave my mom alone, you wanker!"

"This Mudblood is not your actual mother, boy," the witch snapped. "Your true mother was a Pureblood witch and a Death Eater. You, wizard-" and she gestured at the wizard in the tie-dye robes, who was also standing up and leveling his wand in her direction. "Make sure the boy remains inside."

It had been a mistake for the witch to take her attention from Hermione, even briefly, as she'd pointed her wand in her direction and intoned, "Finite Incantatem." The multiple glamours instantly vanished, revealing Corban Yaxley.

"You!" Hermione shouted. "You're supposed to be on parole!"

"Outside!" Yaxley snapped. "Say your goodbyes to this pathetic bunch of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers." He whipped his wand in the direction of the door, which burst open. The collected patrons of the bar screamed, shouted and whipped out their own wands, in about equal measure. Yaxley crossed the space between him and Hermione in an instant, grabbed her and spun her around, shoved his wand at her neck, and yelled, "Put those down or I'll kill her where she stands!" Those in the crowd who'd attempted to rush Yaxley backed off.

Meanwhile, Evan was sobbing, holding closely to both Rhiannon and Inanna, who had managed to stand back up. "He said my mom was bad! Tell me my mom wasn't bad!"

"Shhh, Evan, it'll be all right. She was my best friend and I know she wasn't bad. She just got wrapped up in some bad stuff because of your dad, but he saved you and your sister at the end. He would have saved her too if he could've, I know it. Now just stay right here and it'll all be all right."

Evan wrestled his way out of the witches' grip. "NO! I hate that wizard. I'm going to get him!" As he shouted, two small ravens spiraled into life next to him. "Dad!" Evan screamed. "HELP ME!" The ravens began to glow with an unearthly light, and vanished into thin air. Evan ran straight for the open door, through which Yaxley had just managed to shove Hermione. The tie-dye wizard, Rhiannon, and Inanna all ran after him, but stopped short as Eric Gundarsson and his associate John Red Cloud of the Hartford Auror Force burst out of the Crystal's fireplace.

"Eric, thank the Goddess you're here! Hermione was just dragged out the door by some British wizard—she said he was on parole—so he's a Death Eater, I'd presume," said Rhiannon.

"We're on it," Eric said. "Kid," and he addressed this last to Evan. "Stay here and make sure everyone's safe." Evan beamed.

In the street, Yaxley had created a ring of magical fire around himself and Hermione. As it was a weekday evening and fairly cold, the crowd that had formed wasn't large, but Eric and Red Cloud noted that it was composed of both magical folk and Muggles. After a nod from Red Cloud, Eric sent his Patronus, a goat, galloping toward the center of town.

"Yo! Death Eater!" Eric yelled toward Yaxley. "Lay off with the fire crap. You're outnumbered, and reinforcements are coming."

"Sod off, Auror!" Yaxley yelled. "I've got what I came for," and after that, he pressed his wand further into Hermione's neck. He'd magically trussed her up as well as silenced her, and she didn't look happy. "By the time your reinforcements get here, this dirty-blooded little bit of crumpet will be gone and so will I. Take a message for me, will you? Tell Macnair and Malfoy that they sold me out and they're going to pay!"

"Do I look like your fuckin' receptionist, asswipe?" Eric yelled. Abruptly, he pointed his wand at Yaxley and shouted, "Mjolnir!" A large silver hammer materialized and hurtled, end over end, through Yaxley's fire ring and directly toward his head. At the same time, Red Cloud had produced a large, stylized rattle from his robes and pointed it at the sky—a thunderbolt crashed and an extremely localized rain storm soaked the fire ring, putting it out immediately.

Yaxley began yelling at the top of his lungs and firing spells every which way—Red Cloud dodged a Crucio—before the hammer made contact, knocking him over and pinning him to the ground. The crowd surrounding the melee had gotten larger. Inanna, Rhiannon and the tie-dye wizard had come outside, attempting to hold on to Evan, who had slowly migrated over to the door and then run out toward the action.

Yaxley, after running through several spells, was finally able to remove the hammer from the center of his chest, and scrambled up. While he was otherwise occupied, Red Cloud had dashed over and freed Hermione, and Evan ran over to them and hugged her. A giraffe Patronus had answered Eric's call, and he was up on tip-toes, listening as the message was delivered.

Yaxley took the opportunity to try and attack Hermione again; as he slowly inched toward her, he slipped and fell on hundreds of banana peels and marbles, conjured from the wands of Rhiannon, Inanna, and the tie-dye wizard, using the extremely silly and quintessentially American spell, " _Quid, Me Anxius Sum?"._ Growling, he swept his wand around and vanished the obstacles…only to be confronted by Harry Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Walden Macnair, and Lucius Malfoy, who had just landed in a semicircle around a glowing teapot Portkey.

"Incarcerous!" intoned Kingsley, and magical ropes instantly bound Yaxley. "Mr. Macnair, would you do the honours?"

Walden looked Yaxley straight in the eye. Yaxley looked back at him and gave one short, sharp nod. A flash of green light lit the street, and Yaxley was no more.


	36. We All Have the Courage to Fly

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

The title of this chapter is from Disney's "Happily Ever After" song.

This is it, folks! I hope you have enjoyed the myriad twists and turns of this fic as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I'll be back with some more fics as soon as I recover.

 **NOTHING ELSE MATTERS**  
 **Chapter 36 –** **We All Have the Courage to Fly**

After Yaxley's demise, the British and American Aurors worked quickly to contain the situation. All witches and wizards were corralled into the Crystal; Cerridwen and the rest of the wait staff handed round free mugs of hot chocolate. Meanwhile, Obliviators from New York created a magical snowfall that simultaneously cleared Muggles from the area as well as modified their memories so that they recalled seeing a bar fight that had spilled out into the road and had been broken up by Salem PD.

Yaxley's corpse was removed by Aurors Proudfoot and Corner, who had arrived via Portkey shortly after Harry, Kingsley, Walden and Lucius. Harry, Kingsley, and Lucius sat down with Hermione at the same table where the melee had begun, and explained that they had hired Walden, to, essentially, perform his former job on the Resurgence members, and they'd put him under an Unbreakable Vow until the deed was done. After that, Lucius and Walden had performed their own Vow in order to keep Hermione, Evan, and the rest of Walden's family, if necessary, safe.

Hermione was relieved to hear that Walden's standoffishness had all been a Vow-required act, but she did hit Harry with several annoying spells before they finally hugged and made up. Rhiannon and Inanna returned to the table after that, and everyone ordered a late dinner. Cerridwen sent an owl to the Portkey Office explaining that Hermione and Evan wouldn't be on that evening's red-eye.

Rather than joining the rest of the group at the table, Walden and Evan were bellied up to the bar, happily drinking down multiple mugs of hot chocolate, when they were approached by the tie-dye wizard.

"I'm not sure if you recall me, sir," he began. "But I was a friend of Rowan's."

"Ye look somewhat familiar," Walden replied, as he signaled for another mug of hot chocolate with a shot of Laphroaig on the side.

"I used to be an activist, but I decided that I could do more good elsewhere. I'd be interested in having you give a guest lecture, actually," and he handed Walden his card, which read

 _ **BARTHOLOMEW AUGUSTUS MOONWILLOW, III**_

 _ **PROFESSOR, DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS**_

 _ **ILVERMORNY SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

"Aye, Mr Willow, I remember ye now! Ye were that silly one who didna eat meat…and that reminds me," and he turned to Evan and gestured at the menu posted next to the liquor display. "Son, how about we get some of those Double Merlin Burgers?"

"Awesome!" Evan shouted, after he sat down his mug.

"Will ye be joining us, sir?" Walden asked.

"Oh, why not," Moonwillow replied, signaling the waitress for the Double Veggie Merlin Special that he had been about to order when Yaxley approached the table.

After dinner was done, Kingsley created two Emergency International Portkeys directly to the Ministry and— after many tearful hugs and goodbyes—Hermione, Evan and the rest of the party departed Salem. Owing to their excessive Portkey use over a relatively short period of time, everyone was escorted directly to the Recovery Lounge for an overnight stay.

The next day, Kingsley gave a press conference and announced the details of the truncated rise and fall of the Resurgence to the wizarding community. The story remained front-page news in the Prophet and every other wizarding media outlet for several weeks.

After the press conference, Elspeth, Gavin, Heather, and Melissa were waiting to escort Walden and Evan back to the lodge, which had been fully restored to a livable state by the collected efforts of the Macnair and Malfoy house elves. Ginny, Harry, and Mr and Mrs Weasley whisked Hermione to Grimmauld Place and installed her in the guest room with copious piles of the latest titles from Flourish and Blotts, as well as breakfast in bed. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, smiling large for the cameras, escorted Lucius back to Malfoy Manor. This time, Narcissa did not return to France once the spotlight was off.

A week after the conference, Walden sent a large bouquet and a box of chocolates to Hermione via owl post, with a note requesting her presence at the castle for dinner the following week. She sent an owl back accepting his invitation.

Two weeks after the conference, she moved back to the lodge, and three weeks after that, she re-accepted his engagement ring.

* * *

"Mom, Dad!" Evan shouted, as he exited the loo. "It's almost time to leave!"

"Ye know, lass, I never did understand why those of us who lived up here needed to travel all the way down to London just to come back to the Highlands ta go to school," Walden remarked, as he levitated Evan's trunk toward the fireplace.

"That is odd, because I never really thought about it, either, but it was convenient for me as I lived outside London. It is rather convoluted. I should look into that for the Alliance…" Hermione mused, as she pushed an Owl Treat through the bars to placate Evan's owl. He'd insisted on naming her Lucinda after Mrs. Wilkes.

"Come on!" Evan shouted, as he burst into the room.

He was jumping up and down with excitement as they Side-Along Apparated to an alley near the station, and was the first to run at the wall between Platforms 9 and 10, slipping seamlessly through the barrier as if he'd been practicing. He hugged Hermione and Walden, grabbed his trunk and owl cage, and leapt onto the train without looking back.

The Sorting Ceremony was fairly mundane that year, but there were a few murmurs when Professor McGonagall called out, "Macnair, Evan!"

Evan took his seat and the Hat was lowered.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Outside the towering windows of the Hogwarts Great Hall, a raven flapped its way from the window ledge into the night.

 **THE END**

* * *

 _ **EPILOGUE, two years later**_

 _ **Macnair Village, Highlands of Scotland (in the countryside near Nairn)**_

Walden and Gavin raised their wands in unison and added the final boards to the top of the roof of the newly-constructed pub. As the boards attached themselves, a cheer rose up from the crowd that had gathered to watch the excitement.

Gavin tapped his wand on his throat to make an announcement. "All right, everyone, as a special treat, the first round is on the house!"

There was another, larger cheer.

Walden tapped his wand on his throat and announced, "And the proceeds from the rest of the rounds today will be goin' to the Alliance for Magical Unity to help publish their new book!" There was a very slight gasp, and then a large cheer for his announcement, as well…after which just about everyone in town trooped into the pub and lined up at the bar.

Two observers remained outside, however…Mundungus Fletcher and Rubeus Hagrid. The former had some magically-shrunk casks in his cloak. The latter was in town to purchase some Thestral Pony Chow, as Ye Olde Creature Shoppe, which was a new addition to Hogsmeade, had run out. He'd heard Gavin's announcement and licked his lips, but when he spotted Walden, he'd ducked back into the alley and backed right into Fletcher.

"Hagrid, old friend," Fletcher began. "Could I interest you in some…"

Hagrid cut him off with a frown. "Don' want whatever ye're sellin', Dung. Just about ready to head back over to Hogsmeade."

"What, weren't you going to stay for a free drink?"

"Not sure I want to accept Macnair's hospitality to do tha'."

"War's been over for years, Hagrid, and if I 'member correctly, you let 'im know what you thought of him back at the battle…and he put that apology to ya in the Prophet….'Sides… _he_ might want to buy what I'm selling!" Fletcher strode over to the pub, whistling something that sounded an awful lot like "Do the Hippogriff."

Hagrid stood for a moment, stroking his beard, and then looked, really looked, at the pub sign. It read "THE HAPPY HIPPOGRIFF", and the creature on the sign (who did, in fact, look inordinately pleased) was clearly flying away from what looked like a castle…

"Looks a bit like ol' Beaky," he muttered to himself, as, clutching his pink umbrella, he strode toward the pub.

Just at that moment, the door opened, and Mundungus was propelled through it. He was clutching a tumbler of firewhisky in one hand, and a small cask in the other, and had a very dismayed look on his face.

"Ye can keep yer free drink, but I'm nae buying any o' yer discount firewhisky, Fletcher, ye Sassenach slubberdegullion! If ye try and cheat me again, I'll have your arse in a sling and show ye the business end of a Blast Ended Screwt!" Walden shoved Mundungus, none too gently, so that he was out of the path of the door, and then wiped his hands on his apron as Fletcher scurried away and Disapparated with a loud, sloppy 'pop'.

Hagrid stifled a smile and continued on toward the door. Walden turned as he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and the two wizards spent a couple of minutes considering each other.

Finally, Walden spoke, looking carefully up at Hagrid.

"Can I offer ye a wee nip, Professor?" he said.

"Don' mind if I do," Hagrid finally replied, as he walked into the pub.


End file.
